


Calm from Within

by Mendeia



Series: The Death-Knell of Silence [8]
Category: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles - All Media Types
Genre: Alien Planet, Angst and Feels, Brotherhood, Family, Family Angst, Gen, Post-Canon, Returning Home
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-07
Updated: 2017-12-17
Packaged: 2019-01-30 14:33:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 61,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12655440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mendeia/pseuds/Mendeia
Summary: The Death-Knell of Silence Part 8: The galaxy is safe, two interconnected families are whole again, but wounds remain - both physical and mental. With so many dark turns in the past, moving forward will be a battle - for everyone. Donatello has a long journey ahead, and a decision to make. What path will he choose? The Hamato Clan will never be the same again.





	1. Crumble

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this is the beginning of the end, my friends. This is the last part of this story, at least as of now. Will I ever come back and add an Act 9? Honestly, I've no idea. But for now, this will wrap up the series.
> 
> Don't worry, though – we have a lot of wrap-up to do before the end!
> 
> I do want to say that the original themesong for this Act was "Days Go By" by The Offspring, but I ended up changing it when I was writing the final chapter. Now, the theme for this Act can actually apply to Acts 5-8, the same as the song from Act 1 works for 1-4. The song for this Act also has turned into one of my anthems for the year.
> 
> Oh, and the element associated with Act 8 is Time.
> 
> Here we go! Enjoy!

Home.

Its meaning varies from culture to culture, world to world, person to person. Home may be a place – but it may also be a scent or a memory or a smile.

The Heart had been Homeworld and parent and guiding light for its people for millennia. It had comforted them in times of sorrow and had rejoiced with them in times of gladness. It had birthed them from its spirit and had cradled them when they died.

The Song sung by the Heart had been heard by many throughout the universe, even if there were those who never knew its source. The Song was not limited by distance or time, and it had sung to fill the hearts of beings of every species on every world. The Song was the Heart's gentle touch, the secure embrace of boundless love and acceptance.

But the Song could only be heard by those who listened for it, just as the Heart could only welcome those who sought it in its dwelling-place at the center of the Homeworld.

And though the Heart was but a sleepy intelligence, only partially aware as compared to its much greater consciousness in another place that was still itself, it knew its children, those born and those made. It knew its children's voices and it knew their spirits.

It knew its children and it sang to them when they needed the Song to fill their own hearts.

So when sorrow came, when the Heart's children cried out in pain, it sang to them of their home within its spirit. It sang of belonging, of a safe place to rest. It sang of its love for those spirits who were its children and for whom the Heart would forever be home. It would have embraced them and comforted them and filled them with love if they came to it in need.

But it knew, inasmuch as it knew anything at all, that many of its currently frightened children were not listening. They were caught up in panic and grief.

If the Heart had been more aware, it might have understood that two of its children's pain was that one particular soul might follow the Heart's Song to retreat into that darkness and never return.

It might have understood that what it offered was precisely what they feared the most.

But it did not understand. So the Heart sang on.

-==OOO==-

"The medics are almost here!"

"Tell them to hurry! We need a full stasis pod and transport to the nearest facility. He needs immediate reconstructive surgery!"

"I'm relaying it now."

"He's gonna be okay? Right?"

"He's gotta be!"

"Please, hang in there! You can't give up now!"

"Please don't go where we can't follow…"

-==OOO==-

The Song of the Heart held Donatello, wrapping him in a melody of life and safety that poured into his very soul.

How long he floated he didn't know – it could have been moments or an eternity. But eventually the Song became punctuated with a rhythm that was outside itself, like a light pulsing against the music. It took another eternity, or moment, for Donatello to realize it was a deliberate force prodding at his awareness, waking him from the Song.

Donatello opened his eyes to see his own reflection.

Except – not quite.

"Close enough, though," the other Donatello said. He looked as he had before, weathered in ways Don wasn't now, or didn't think he was now, with a weight to rival a small moon in his eyes. But he smiled and that smile was the same as the one Don had seen in pictures and vids of himself when his students had surpassed all expectations.

Don blinked at him. "Um. Hi?"

The older Donatello held out a hand laced with fine scars. "Come on. Time to take a walk with me."

Don found he could touch his other self and let himself be tugged forward.

He seemed to pass through some change in the space around himself that was difficult to identify. Like walking through a single fall of rain or a curtain hung of clouds. Something delicate and momentary. He could still hear the Song, though its warmth was muted. But instead of the dark of slumber, he found himself looking over many people he loved so much all flocking around his very still body.

"Wait!" His head shot up in alarm. "Am I dead?"

The older Donatello did not let go of his grip and chuckled. "Not yet, anyway."

"Oh, that's _very_ reassuring. Thanks."

"You're welcome."

Don knew he needed to keep moving, to follow where he was being led, but he couldn't seem to tear his gaze from the commotion below. He watched, fascinated, as an Utrom medical team appeared and pulled his unresponsive and badly-bleeding body into an oblong bubble filled with the same fluid he had first encountered with his father's own healing pod back on Earth and had learned quite a bit about since; it was only utilized for the most severe cases. The medical team were working with brisk efficiency but they were hampered by the sheer number of people who wouldn't quite get out of their way.

The older Donatello tugged on his hand.

"I know it's interesting, but trust me – you _don't_ want to see what they're going to do next. Unless you want to watch yourself undergo some pretty intense surgery."

Don shivered. "Bad?"

The older Donatello gave him a mild glare. "You put yourself in the center of _disintegration bomb_ with a collapsing radius and an imperfect parameter limiter. Be glad you only managed to disintegrate _part_ of your anatomy. Unfortunately, you lost several chunks of flesh you really need, so it's going to be touch-and-go on you for a while."

Don returned the glare with a shrug. "I didn't exactly have a lot of time to perfect or test the thing. I'm just glad it worked at all."

"Yes. Now quit stalling. Someone wants to talk to you."

Don filled up his eyes with everyone – Leo and Raph and Mikey clinging to Splinter, Mortu barking orders without ever taking his eyes off where Leatherhead and Zayton were holding onto the stasis pod and running with the medical team from the crater – before he resolutely turned his head and followed his older self.

"How'd you get here, anyway?" Don asked.

"You could say I've been here before." Then, after a wink, "And, more to the point, it's not so much a 'here' anyway. Time and space are pretty malleable once you get the hang of it."

Don considered. "You're suggesting I could bend time the way I can open a fold between dimensions?"

"Yes, but only inside yourself where time is meaningless."

Don couldn't decide if he was intrigued to know that much or annoyed that it didn't exactly make sense.

"This is that 'things aren't always what they seem, especially reality' trick again, isn't it?"

"More like 'existence works on more levels than one and you're only really familiar with the basics, grasshopper,'" the older Donatello returned. "Give it time. You'll figure it out eventually."

"Obviously you did."

"Yeah. But just keep in mind – I've had a _lot_ more time to get used to it." The older Donatello quirked a smile. "Don't try to master it all at once. You'll drive yourself – and everybody else – crazy."

"You sound like you're speaking from experience."

"You could say that." The older Donatello gave another tug. "Now, quit dragging your metaphorical feet. It makes it harder to keep you here. And if I lose track of you, you might get stuck somewhere _inside_ the Heart, not just floating alongside it."

"Oh. Sorry?" Now that his attention had been called to it, though, he could feel the weight of his interest in what was happening with his body holding him back from moving freely away from it. And every question he launched at his older counterpart grounded him farther in the self he was back there, not the self present here.

And still the Song of the Heart beckoned him, warm and safe.

Don brought his thoughts into order and focused forward.

"Thank you. That's much better."

"Out of curiosity, though, what would happen if I _did_ get stuck in the Heart? However that works?"

The older Don made a sad smile. "You'd never be lonely again, and you'd never be sad, but you would never wake up again, either, and eventually you'd lose all spiritual cohesion. If the Heart decided to make you a part of itself, that's what you'd be – _forever_. And _no one_ would be able to bring you back. So come with me if you want to keep on being yourself."

A light bloomed in the nothingness before them.

Don trusted his older self, he _did_ , but he still had to ask, "I'm not going to go into the light and wind up in the big laboratory in the sky, am I?"

The older Donatello snorted. "Now you sound like Mikey. No. It's just another plane of awareness where it's easier for us all to meet."

"Who's this 'all' that's meeting us here?"

"Walk through and find out."

Don wanted to understand. He wanted to find out what was here, what it meant, why he had been summoned. Who was waiting. What it was all _about_.

But he couldn't shake the feeling that passing through that doorway would change something, maybe forever. And he still had a promise to keep.

"Hey."

Don looked up into the eyes of his older self.

"I can't tell you much, but I can tell you this. Come with me now and you've got the same odds to get back as if we wait it out here. And, if you give it a chance, you'll get to see somebody you _really_ want to see."

Don felt the steadiness, the truth, the certainty in his older self. But what really convinced him was the light that bloomed in the older Donatello's eyes. As if his older self were going home.

_Hey, maybe we are._ "Okay." And Don let the older Donatello lead him into the light.

-==OOO==-

Over the course of the next two hours, the small waiting room became very crowded.

It had been empty when Leo and Raph and Mikey and Splinter arrived at the healing center where the healers had brought Don on an emergency transport some minutes before – they had had to wait for Mortu to coordinate with Owens and the arriving Guardians and Secrete Obscura to commandeer another vehicle. Leatherhead and Zayton had both gone with Don and the healers by virtue of having some understanding of the device Don had used and what it might have done to him.

But shortly after the Hamato Clan arrived, Professor Honn'i'kedt joined them.

"I have done all I can. Leatherhead has a great deal more knowledge of Donatello's biology, so he will be advising them."

Mortu arrived somewhat later; he had obviously been _anguished_ when he had agreed to stay behind to help Guardian Owens secure the Heart and continue the cleanup of the disaster, but that was his duty and he knew as much. It was while Mortu and Guardian Owens were negotiating for the vehicle that the Hamato Clan had learned the 'attack' by the Architect's ship on the planet had actually harmed no one – in spite of the fact that it looked to all appearances like countless buildings and beings had been vaporized. Instead, the crowds of Utrom who had been digitally transported to safety were disseminating strict instructions on how to handle the situation.

Instructions given to them by Donatello himself in those few minutes they spent as digital beings in his care.

Even fighting for his life, Don was also still trying to help.

But eventually Mortu arrived with tired eyes and a robotic shrug, now wearing one of the robo-organic suits of the Utrom.

He only said, "They don't need me as much as Donatello does right now."

In Mortu's wake came a group of four Utrom who spoke to Zayton and whom the turtles learned were Leatherhead's own parents. The Utrom greeted the Hamato Clan kindly, having spent time getting to know Donatello and hearing about the rest of them from Leatherhead himself, but there was a universal worry in their eyes that was not bound by species or life experience.

The worry of family, of parent to child, for all they had endured and for all that might yet be have to be endured.

When the ten beings anxiously waiting for news fell silent, it was an oppressive, worrying silence. Even Michelangelo didn't have the heart to try to make jokes. Not when he didn't know if his brother would live or die.

But before even he could gather the courage to find some way of shifting the tension, Mortu did it for him.

"Zayton."

Every eye in the room fell upon the Fugitoid and Mortu as Mortu stirred from a corner into which he had drifted. With a gesture, Honn'i'kedt made space for Mortu's suit beside his own along a mushy bench to one side.

Mortu fought with words for a long moment before he spoke.

"I need to understand it. Everything."

Zayton nodded. "Where shall I start? And..." He trailed off, glancing at the turtles.

Master Splinter looked up. "Already I know much of my son's plan, but perhaps you can make better sense of it than I."

"Tell us." Mikey didn't quite mean to whimper, but that's how it came out. "Please?"

Mortu made a gesture with his forelegs, which seemed to be permission to begin.

"You all realize now that Donatello was never truly working with the Architect, correct?" Honn'i'ket asked.

"Yeah." Raph's voice was low. "He was foolin' him the whole time."

"It was the only way for him to survive." Zayton spoke to the entire room. "Donatello initially left the Homeworld to seek out that which was threatening people in the galaxy. I think we all underestimated the impact of Donatello's experience with the Architect's last attack; it drove him to breach some of the most secure files of the Secrete without telling any of us. Through his own research, he discovered that the culprit was the Architect. So he went to find it and stop it."

Leo shook his head. "Stupid, _stupid_ Donnie."

Several of the others looked at him, but Zayton did not.

"Upon being captured by the Architect, Donatello was subjected to the same mental invasion as all the other victims. But he had certain abilities the Architect could not have anticipated and was not grievously harmed. And, more importantly, he was able to keep secrets from the Architect. This led to Donatello discovering the true nature of the Architect, its goal, and the extent of the protections layered around its programming."

"So he figured he couldn't take it down until it let its guard down," Michelangelo said. "He went all Trojan Horse and snuck in so he could open the gate from the inside."

"How the shell do you know about the Trojan Horse?" Raph asked, blinking.

"Dude. It's in every cartoon and comic book _ever_."

"Figures."

"And the bad guys always fall for it. Like, _always_."

"As did the Architect," Zayton said. "From that moment of initial resistance, Donatello arranged matters to suit his final goal of forcing the Architect to initiate a synchronization with an external force so that he could attempt to disable it. With the minds of so many victims hanging in the balance locked within the Architect's matrix, it would have amounted to their deaths if he had simply destroyed the ship from within or attempted to damage the Architect's systems directly."

One of the other Utrom spoke up for the first time. "I am aware of the Architect, being among the advisors to those who attempted to care for its victims. If I may ask – how were their minds preserved? Such a thing should not be possible."

"Except," Zayton said, "that the Architect was housed in a ship which was originally of the Utrom. And while it was very old, it was still equipped with extensive telexistence technology and fully-functioning Oracle Pods. The Architect itself utilized that technology to enhance its interrogation of its victims, but also to replicate the entire mental capacity of each one for further investigation later."

He paused, and his voice warmed slightly.

"Almost any other being might have overlooked the possibility of saving so many lives trapped in something of a digital purgatory. But because one of Donatello's primary fields of study was related to digitalization of consciousness and telexistence, he had a unique advantage in retrieving this information, ensuring its integrity, and protecting it."

"But why threaten the Heart?" Mortu asked.

"Donatello reasoned that the Heart was both a tempting enough target for the Architect to accept and strong enough to resist it even if he failed in every one of his plans. Additionally, to absorb the Heart would bring the Architect to the Homeworld where Donatello could more easily transfer the cognitive information of its victims to those intimately familiar with telexistence studies. And…"

Zayton made a noise with his voice processor a bit like a cough.

"And Donatello knew he could count upon all of you to protect the Homeworld and do what needed to be done if he was unable to finish the task himself."

"What does all this have to do with the attack on the Stem?" Raph asked.

Zayton glanced at Leatherhead's family but Mortu waved a foreleg. "Go on. I'll make sure they get the proper clearance. They deserve to know all of it."

Zayton nodded. "The areas around the Heart are generally densely populated by the Secrete Obscura. While the Guardians and some members of the Secrete were pursuing the Architect in space, it was necessary to thin out their ranks farther to avoid additional casualties. The digitization process Donatello used to remove all living beings from the area around the Heart is not unlimited – the fewer people he had to transport, the safer they would be. So he arranged for a distraction."

"You mean he fed info to those Enlightened Ones," Mikey corrected.

"Yes. He identified a mole close to the High Council and used that individual's access to acquire information for the Enlightened Ones that would concentrate their attack somewhere he could control. He has already forwarded all the details of that part of the operation to the High Council so they can take appropriate actions."

"What do you mean, control?" Leo asked, looking up. "Wasn't he risking the entire Council's safety?"

"Donatello was monitoring the situation from the Architect's ship, as were Leatherhead and I," Zayton said. "If anything had gone truly awry, we would have intervened directly. As it is, we were only required to use the chaos of the situation to make the switch of Donatello's mask in your possession."

Leo shook his head again. "And I never noticed."

"You _were_ falling through the air at the time."

Raph managed a half-hearted punch at Leo's shoulder. "You're slipping, bro."

"So Donatello ensured that there would be fewer people on duty around the Heart," Mortu said. "And then used that lull to remove the rest before initiating his plan."

"Yes. It was our hope to be able to stop the Architect peacefully. In fact, it and I are not so different as consciousnesses bound to artificial bodies. The knowledge the Architect possessed about countless lost cultures, to say nothing of what it has gained roaming the universe, was invaluable. And the lives of its victims…"

Zayton looked away.

"But, in the end, neither Donatello nor myself were able to overcome the Architect's ancient protections and we were forced to adopt more drastic measures. It is possible that our failure will result in a loss of integrity to the data we did retrieve, which means some of the victims of the Architect might not be saved, or may suffer incomplete restoration. But the Heart...its safety outweighed everything else."

"Including Donatello's own life."

Everyone shifted to look at where Splinter's head was down. His words were heavy with sorrow and grief.

"I saw as much in a joint meditation when Donatello shared with me his plans to defeat the Architect and his reasoning for his actions. I begged him to pursue another option, to find a way of defeating this enemy without sacrificing himself. But...my son felt strongly that if he could not disable it, that he must not take any chances on destroying it."

"But," Mortu's voice went sharp, "he could have called upon the Heart! Between its power and the mystical weapons he procured for just that eventuality, there was no reason for him to risk his life!"

A new voice spoke up. "But to call upon the Heart's full strength would be to invite it to unshield itself. Not only would it be more vulnerable than ever, but it might also prove a fatal distraction to Donatello and to ourselves."

The door slid shut behind Leatherhead. Leatherhead glanced around the room and closed his eyes, his snout hanging down.

"I believe, in the end, he was not willing to risk it. Even at the cost of his own life or all our lives. And so he chose a method to destroy the Architect that endangered only himself."

"Leatherhead. You knew?" Splinter asked.

Leatherhead shook his head. "Not then. I knew Donatello had several contingencies planned, but not the contents of them all. However…" He sighed.

"However?" Zayton asked, exuding gentleness.

Two of Leatherhead's parents shifted through the air on their discs to touch him with their forelegs.

"However. Aunt Kria was working tirelessly within the system to create a repository for the minds and memories of the victims – we could access them, but we couldn't relocate and transfer them until Donatello feigned an outage in one of the sectors during our final descent. And Zayton, you were dealing with the firewalls and also with managing a number of the equations for digitization. I helped wherever I could but...being less well versed in the specific fields of study required, I had more time to spare than the others."

"Donatello's mind showed me that he spoke to you often," Splinter said.

"Yes." Leatherhead's eyes were watery. "Donatello did not want to distract Aunt Kria when her work was so critical to the preservation of so many lives, so I became his most regular confidant. I...I could see the guilt weighing upon him, the risks he was taking with the lives of the victims and our own and the Heart itself. I could see it biting into his soul."

Leatherhead looked up. "And then every time had to confront you turtles, or even when he visited you in your mind, Master Splinter, it tore into him anew. He said he felt like he was sowing pain everywhere he went, that he'd done egregious things while trying his best to do the right thing. His guilt...the shame of the pain he was causing…"

"You think it made Don suicidal." Leo's words were cold and sharp in the sudden, leaden silence.

" _No_." Leatherhead dragged in a breath. "I know that, in spite of it all, Donatello wanted to live. But I think he could not have endured the burden of the Heart's safety were it to be exposed. I think that he _panicked_. That he acted recklessly not because he had given up, but because he had drawn one final line he could not cross even at the cost of everything."

"I think you may be right," Mortu said, sighing. "The strain of having so many lives dependent upon his ability to outwit the Architect, and the presence of the family he thought lost, and the risk to the Homeworld...I think it would be very like Donatell to find himself so afraid to fail that he could not stand to employ any method that wasn't certain to succeed. Even if it took his life to do so."

"He fell on his sword to ensure the dragon would die," Splinter said. "My poor son."

Suddenly Leo exploded out of his chair. "He shouldn't have...he couldn't... _none of this should ever have happened!_ "

Raph was beside him in an instant. "Leo! Stop it!"

"No!" Leo bunched his hands at his sides as though barely keeping himself from lashing out. "Don should _never_ have been in that position!"

"He chose to go, Leo." Michelangelo rose to stand with Raph. "You know, any one of us might have done the same...if we'd known how. And been a little crazy. Which we are sometimes."

"He _should_ have stayed with the Utrom!" Leo shouted. "He should have been _safe_! Why'd he have to go and do something so _stupid_?"

And then Zayton was there, moving with ninja-like silence for all his Fugitoid body had never been particularly stealthy.

"You are angry at _yourself_ , Leonardo. _Not_ Donatello. I will _not_ let you blame him for your own mistakes and choices."

The words echoed with the force of a slap and Leo rocked back on his heels as if struck by them.

"I…"

"He's right."

Leo's head swiveled to stare at Raph as though he had never seen him before. "What?"

Raph shrugged. "He's right," he said again. "Look, it ain't easy on any of us right now. But don't you _dare_ go laying this on Donnie's shell, Leo. Donnie only went after that Architect because it was the right thing to do, same as we've done however much stuff that was way worse."

Raph glanced down at the medallion he still wore. Don's medallion.

"Don never went in for that superhero stuff of Mikey's. And he never wanted to be out bustin' heads with me and Casey to get punks off the street. But when did Don _ever_ turn away from a problem whether he knew how to fix it or not?"

"I know that, but..." Leo trailed off.

"Perhaps it was inevitable," Mortu spoke up softly. "For so long while he was here, Donatello was teaching and experimenting, yes, but he was also training with the Guardians. And when he became a target himself, he was driven by the need to find ways of protecting what he had learned so it could not be used to harm others. Perhaps..."

"It's not really that surprising," Mikey interrupted, looking slightly annoyed. "We've done weirder things with less good reason. Just because Don never went looking for the hero gig doesn't mean he isn't one."

"And I know that you're ticked off." Raph turned back to Leo. "I get it. But you're not ticked off that he was in danger, or even that he went. You'd'a been ticked off before we even got here if that was why. No, you're ticked off _now_ because _now_ is when it matters to ya whose fault it is."

"It is no one's fault." Splinter looked into Leonardo's eyes. "My son. It is _no one's_ fault."

"Personally, I would blame the Architect itself," Zayton put in. "That is who was responsible for the pain and destruction that drove Donatello to find and destroy it, and that is what ultimately refused to surrender and had to be eliminated by any means necessary."

"Leonardo."

Leo looked up to where Mortu was regarding him with calm, resolute eyes. It was an expression Leo had seen in the mirror many times – the look of a leader who must bear the burdens of all who put their trust in him.

"What happened on Earth and in the other dimension...you must resolve that with Donatello yourself. All of you." He glanced to look at the rest of the Hamato Clan. "But what happened here? The life Donatello led and the choices he made? Those were and are his own. And while I will likely scream at him myself for being so reckless with his own life and safety, I agree that no one is to blame for it. Not you, and not myself either."

Raph grabbed Leo's shoulder and shook it.

"Be sorry about what you did," he said in a low, heartfelt voice that belied his own guilt. "Promise you'll do better. Apologize as soon as you get the chance. But don't you _dare_ blame him or yourself for how this ended. Don't you _dare_."

Leo managed a laugh. "You know things have gone sideways when _you're_ lecturing _me_ , Raph."

Raph quirked a half-smile. "Kinda fun. I could get used to this."

"Uh, no thanks," Mikey put in. "One lecturer in the family is _way_ more than enough, dude."

"Two lecturers," Leatherhead said then. They looked at him. "Two lecturers," he repeated. "Or have you forgotten that Donatello is a teacher and lecturer himself now, even if the context is different?"

A host of emotions flitted through the expressions of the three turtles, but Michelangelo made an obvious effort to shove them all down and smile.

"Now I'm feeling left out. You think I could start giving lectures on comic books to all those snazzy people Don teaches?"

For making the entire room relax, Raph didn't even smack him.

-==OOO==-

Don emerged into a familiar Japanese garden, one he had spent some hours in not long before. But this time there were two figures waiting at the center of the garden. Don's knees almost gave way.

"Master...Yoshi."

"I'm here too, you ungrateful kumquat," the Ancient One said, but his eyes were alight with amusement. "After all the work I did to assist you and you do not even greet me? How rude!"

"I...I'm sorry, Ancient One. I...uh…"

But the Ancient One smiled. "It is good you feel so strongly the presence of Yoshi, young one. Do not be concerned. We are all friends here."

Don looked to his older self. "You're _sure_ I'm not dead?"

The other Donatello smiled. "Nope. I told you. It's a different plane of awareness. Not so different from what you've done in meditation before, but with a little more juice. Enough to reach someone who really wanted to talk to you."

In the face of everything, Don could hardly bear to fix his gaze on Hamato Yoshi, the man Splinter had so loved, the man so trusted and honored by the Utrom and the Guardians. The man from the Ancient One's stories. The man from the sphere of memories.

But that man's eyes were gentle and serene and infinitely wise. "Donatello-san. It is an honor to meet you at last."

Don gulped, managed to bow, almost fell over, and finally righted himself. "I...thank you, Master Yoshi."

"I wished to thank you properly for your sacrifice. Because of your courage and forbearance, a great evil has been removed from the universe. And the Heart, and the Utrom to whom I dedicated my life, are safe."

Don almost swallowed his tongue when Yoshi bowed to him. He made a sort of squeaking 'meep' noise that was thoroughly undignified. Yoshi, of course, did not acknowledge it when he rose.

"You and your brothers did what none else could do and defeated the Utrom Shredder twice. You also filled the place made for you by the Ninja Tribunal to vanquish the Demon Shredder. These feats tested all four of you and nearly cost you all your lives.

"But this time you were alone. And still you rose up and destroyed an ancient force who would have eventually caused great suffering across the galaxy. And while your plan was unorthodox, in the end, the Heart was spared because of your willingness to protect it even at the ultimate cost to yourself."

Don shifted uncomfortably. "Master Yoshi, I…"

Yoshi held up a hand and Don fell silent.

"I am also aware of the fact that the course of these events led you to rescind your birthright to the Hamato Clan."

Don nodded and would have dropped his gaze except he couldn't stand showing the slightest disrespect to Master Yoshi, not now that he could finally meet the man who had made everything possible.

"I understand why you made the choice you did, both in that moment and for what is yet to come."

His serene expression warmed with affection.

"But I wish you to know that, no matter the choices you make, or that your Sensei makes, I will always claim you and your brothers and father as my own. Whatever you do, you are still my Clan, Donatello-san. One of my students and Heirs. And, strange as it may be to think, one of my grandsons."

"Strange is what this Clan does best, it seems," the Ancient One grumbled with no real ire. "When I wished for you to bring me children, Yoshi, I did not expect a rat and his kame babies."

Yoshi quirked an eyebrow at his own adopted father. "But are you not grateful for them now? Pleased by the honor they do your teachings?"

" _Pleased_ is a strong word for it," the Ancient One returned. He snorted. "Certainly they are a trial. Every one of them, not just this one."

Don blushed.

But the older Donatello laughed. "So, exactly the Clan you'd expect, then?"

"Unfortunately."

The Ancient One approached Don and looked up at him. Then his face split with a small smile. "Though your foolishness knows no bounds, so far your good fortune has held up. And the Tribunal is quite frustrated that you were able to summon Kiryoku for Leonardo and craft the focus mandala. All in all, you have done well, young one."

"I...uh, thank you." Don wished his voice didn't tremble. "I couldn't have done it without your help, though, Ancient One."

"I'm not so certain that is true." The Ancient One's eyes snapped with amusement. "If you could not have accomplished it alone now, you certainly will someday."

Yoshi spoke again before Don could splutter or panic. "When you next see the rest of our Clan, please convey to them my highest regards. And please tell Splinter-san that I am very proud of him and of all his sons have become." His eyes shone with mirth for a moment. "And remind your brothers to behave themselves, for I am watching them as surely as I have watched over you."

Don drew in a breath if only to keep from passing out – assuming that was even possible at the moment. "Master Yoshi...the sphere you left behind…"

"I wish you to keep it, Donatello-san. I did not know when I made it that it was meant for you, but that is how events have unfolded. If you choose to share it with Splinter-san or your brothers, that is your choice and right. I hope, even if you do not wish them to view its contents, that you will at least pass on its teachings to the rest of your family someday."

Don bowed sharply. "I will, Master."

"Good. There is still much for you to learn, but I know that you shall master it in time." Yoshi glanced to the older Donatello. "And, if your path leads the way his has done, you will surprise even us with what you uncover."

Don looked to his counterpart. "That sounds ominous."

"Oh." And the older Donatello grinned with pure delight. "You have _no idea_. Trust me."

"I'm afraid to, honestly." Then Don blinked. "Wait. You're all talking like you're sure I'll make it back. I thought...aren't I at death's door?"

Yoshi smiled and Donatello felt like he had the first time he'd seen a sunrise all over again.

"You are. But you gave your word, did you not? That you would not die?"

"I promised. But...it's not like I can really help it." He stopped. "Or can I?"

"Now you remember to think." The Ancient One nodded. "Recall your lessons. What you will becomes truth."

"The only way you die here," the older Donatello said, "is if you decide you want to. It's up to you now. If you don't want to go back, if you can't handle it, that's your choice."

Don blinked at him. "Can't handle what?"

"Living with the consequences. Of _everything_. Everything you've done and what happened with your brothers and facing what will have to happen next." His eyes went sad for a moment. "It won't necessarily be easy for you. And your life won't ever be the same again."

"However," Yoshi said, and his voice drew Don's gaze back like a comet pulled into orbit. "I have faith in your courage, Donatello-san. And in those who call you family. If you can risk a little more, I think you would be grateful. As would those who now fear for you."

And then Donatello felt something like strings closing around his wrists. He looked down in surprise to see ghostly ribbons of light looping around his arms and trailing off in the air like fading moonbeams; together, they looked a bit like a rainbow. For there were many colors.

And Don found he knew them all.

Blue. _Leo_.

Orange. _Mikey_.

Red. _Raph_.

A sedate brown. _Father_.

Yellow-green. _Leatherhead_.

Silvery-grey. _Zayton_.

Roseate. _Mortu_.

And so many others. Green for April, slate-grey for Casey, pale blue for Krian'daren. Colors for Angel and the Professor in the junkyard on Earth, for Usagi in his own world, for the students and friends he had made at the Science Institute, for Bonani and the other Guardians. There were colors Don couldn't even name, bleeding into one bright mass of strings that shimmered and tangled together, a riot of light and energy.

A life calling him to return.

Don felt tears gather and fall and he didn't bother to wipe them away.

"I know it'll be hard," he said in a voice that shook. "But...I didn't think I'd make it out alive."

He looked up at his older self, at the Ancient One, at Hamato Yoshi.

"I...can't imagine not wanting to go back. No matter what happens next."

"I know it will not always be the easiest decision, but I feel certain that it is the correct one," Yoshi said. "Go with my blessing and continue to make your way, Hamato Donatello-san."

The Ancient One gave a short nod. "And remember. You can always find us, well, me – at least for now until you learn a bit more. If you need me badly enough. I would not mind another visit. The trouble you find for yourself is always interesting, kumquat."

Don bowed to him, then bowed to Yoshi. "Thank you. Both of you. For everything. I'll...I'll try to deserve it."

The older version of Donatello stepped forward. "Okay. Then let's get you back where you belong."

Don nodded. "I'm ready."

His older self huffed a laugh. "We'll see about that."

The older Donatello braced both hands on Don's shoulders.

And _pushed_.

-==OOO==-

The door opened and several different beings walked in, including Krian'daren herself.

Leatherhead's parents stayed out of the way, so only a small horde descended upon them in a rush of questions and shouting and demands for Donatello's status.

Krian'daren waited quietly until the group managed to silence themselves before she peered around them.

"Donatello lives. He is hurt, very. He will need much time. But his mind is unharmed and his body will heal."

It was Splinter who asked the only question left that really mattered.

"When can we see him?"

"Now. Though nothing to see. Soon we transport him to healing suite to recover." She pinned the group with a glare. "But _must_ be quiet. He sleeps. The transport is difficult. Let sleep him until then after."

In that moment, any one of them would have given her anything she asked, agreed to any promise, accepted any stipulations, if they could but see Donatello and ensure that he was going to be all right. But she needn't have bothered, really.

Because when she led the entire group to where they could look through a window to Donatello's room, where they could see him suspended in a bed of viscous liquid and wrapped in coverings and tubes and wires, not one felt any need to make noise.

He was clearly battered. He looked – as Michelangelo said later – like he had gone ten rounds with the Shredder and then been put through a paper shredder on top of it.

But he was alive.

He had saved the Heart and thereby the Homeworld and the entire Utrom race.

And he was still their Donatello. Somehow he had endured the Architect and the disintegration and everything else and had not just survived, but had remained himself at his core. Somewhere underneath all those wounds was a heart that still beat for both of his families.

The only thing left – the only thing the Hamato Clan or the Utrom family needed – was for him to wake up and rejoin them once and for all.


	2. Remedy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, the last scene of this chapter was written a long, long time ago. I think I wrote it before I'd even finished Acts 4 or 5. Maybe before I'd even begun them. Which is slightly scary, since I can count on one hand the number of times I've been THAT on top of a plotline. But this was always where I was headed, and this particular scene is an important stop on the journey!
> 
> I'm way too tired to think of anything else clever to say right now.
> 
> Enjoy!

Krian'daren waited until the preliminary healing treatments and Utrom bio-reparative gels had made progress against Donatello's grievous injuries before she halved the sedation keeping him under. When that showed no adverse effects, she made arrangements to transfer his care and tasked a few of her most trusted colleagues to form a recovery team. Four hours later, she halved the sedation again, tracking it through his body with Utrom instruments and her own native abilities.

As a Poly-Doctor, Krian'daren wished nothing but for Donatello to rest and recover. However, she was not _only_ a Poly-Doctor to him, not in this case, and she owed him at least this much.

Therefore, she ended the sedation treatment entirely just before overseeing the settling of Donatello into the medical suite which would also serve as temporary quarters for the Hamato Clan as well as Don's Homeworld family – both groups were equally unwilling to leave him even to return to their apartments. The recovery room was outfitted for the finest care, and it existed as a part of a suite which could house the others while still maintaining a medical presence nearby – though this last Krian'daren thought might prove unnecessary with Zayton and Letherhead in what would likely be constant attendance.

Once the moving was done and Donatello was hooked up to the many panels and sensors that would be monitoring him, Krian'daren turned to the medical staff tasked to the turtle's case.

Speaking in her native tongue, she said, "I require a few moments alone with him. Please leave us. You may brief Leatherhead and Professor Honn'i'kedt on Donatello's current status. I am certain they will both be checking on him more often than we ourselves."

When the staff had left, Krian'daren put a hand on Donatello's bare shoulder and switched back to using English.

"Young one?"

Don stirred slightly.

As a healer, she would never have disturbed him so soon. But she had given her word, sworn upon her heart's medical vow, and any delay might cause her to dishonor their agreement. She would not break her promise to him – but she must be certain before she continued.

She must give him one last chance to change his mind.

"Yes, I know. Heavy the sleep and worse for your injuries. But banish you it quickly. Wake, Donatello."

Don blinked, coming up out of the darkness as though surfacing out of meditation. He tried to speak, but the mask over his face and the tube that filled his mouth prevented him.

"Be calm. It will be some days before you return to talking."

His eyes widened and he gave an experimental breath. Its ease compared with the last time he had been awake was obvious from his expression.

She gave him one of her people's smiles. "Yes. Already your body knits itself, though it needs much help and fixing."

Don nodded, but he was frowning.

"I know you did not wish me here. That I save the others in this time. But for you I come. The time to knit your body not a danger to those whose minds are lost. The files are strong, and already our team gathers themselves. However, now that you are awake to answer, I ask. Still wish you this of me?"

Donatello met her eyes and very calmly nodded.

Krian'daren made a small gulping noise in her throat, one that was her people's version of a displeased huff. "Selfless but foolish. You know this."

Don nodded again.

Krian'daren placed her other hand on Donatello's forehead and let out a low purr.

"Young one. Their lives...it is a gift. But yours is also a gift. I will not lose either."

Don nudged her hand with his forehead.

"I understand. This trust you give me, I promise to make right. But for this, my trust in you must also be well. Yes?"

She bent low over him and returned to her native speech, a lilting, bouncy language like a bubbling brook of sound.

"I do not wish us to misunderstand one another, dear one. I will do as you ask and focus upon healing other lives and minds than your own. But in return, you must get well even out of my sight. You must promise me, Donatello, that you will take the correct time to heal yourself of your ordeal. That I will not endanger your recovery in order to fulfill that which you have asked of me. I wish you to give me your vow that you will get well without me here to ensure it."

Tears pricked in Donatello's eyes. He took a deep breath and nodded against her hand.

"Then I will honor your dedication with my own. I will see you again after I have accomplished all."

Donatello's hand shook but he closed his fingers on hers.

Krian'daren gave a smile of her own people and changed to English again. "Yes, young one. I hear your feelings even without reading them in your mind. I hear you."

Don nodded to her and his eyes crinkled as in a smile behind his mask.

"I go now. But I monitor still. Keep your promise, young one."

Krian'daren released Donatello and stepped back. And if there was a hitch in her steps as she exited the room, she hid it from all but the one who knew what to look for.

"How is he really?" Raph practically pounced on her with the question. The two medical staff were standing to the side and looking a bit like they had been set upon by rather aggressive questioning already.

Krian'daren moved away from the door before she faced the two cautiously-aligned families.

"Donatello heals well, but slowly. He needs time. Rest. Soon we try his lungs for breathing." Then she fixed her eyes on Mortu, the oldest of the guardians over Donatello on the Homeworld, and the one with the most legal responsibility over their tuastum.

"I cannot stay. Now must I go to others in danger, those sent from the Architect for saving. But doctors that come for Donatello are skilled and kind. They will help him when I cannot."

Mortu was surprised. "You're not going to treat him yourself?"

"No. For reasons of Donatello's."

Zayton and Leatherhead exchanged glances. It was Zayton who said, "We understand. Please go and do what you must, then. I will be ready when you need my assistance."

"We will call if anything goes dangerously wrong, though," Leatherhead said.

"Yes. Thank you." Krian'daren took a moment to glance around the room before she exited the suite.

One of the medical staff gestured to the door beside that which led to Donatello's room. "We will be in there setting up the monitoring equipment if you need us. For now, he should simply continue to rest and recover, though you may speak with him if you wish."

As soon as they were gone, everyone else exploded.

"What's she talking about?" Leo demanded. "Why isn't the doctor taking care of Don?"

"Explain this at once." Mortu's eyes were dark and edging towards angry as he faced Zayton and Leatherhead.

"Some doctor _she_ is!" Raph crossed his arms against his plastron. "Abandoning Don like that when he's hurt!"

" _Enough_." Leatherhead did not shout but he snapped his jaw shut and drew all their attention. "What Krian'daren does is both a part of Donatello's final plan as well as very difficult for her. She has been 'Aunt Kria' to Don for the better part of two years. It is not easy for her to leave him, either."

"But she must," Zayton said, "in order to focus all her efforts on restoring the victims of the Architect whose minds we attempted to save. The files we located and preserved are delicate and may already be degrading after transfer from the Architect's own intelligent mind and the telexistence matrix that preserved them thus far."

He paused to ensure he held everyone's attention. "There are _thousands_ of beings across the galaxy, many hundreds within the Collective, who had suffered what we formerly believed to be permanent mental destruction such that they were in a pervasive vegetative state. It is possible that Krian'daren can restore them. And for those whose bodies were killed or have died in the years since they were attacked, there is even more to do to ensure their minds can be transferred into artificial bodies if they so choose."

"But only if she acts quickly," Leatherhead finished. "And only if she works on that to the exclusion of everything else. Including Donatello's own care."

"And he asked for this?" Splinter asked gently.

"Yes," Zayton said. "He made it clear that, no matter what happened in his final confrontation with the Architect, he wished Krian'daren to put all her effort into restoring those it had damaged. Remember, it was the very reason he went in search of the Architect in the first place. And now he must have again confirmed that decision, and she has obviously agreed to it."

"Then," Leo drew himself up. "Then we have to honor that."

Mikey looked at him. "But…"

Leo shook his head. "Don went after that... _thing_...just to keep it from hurting anyone else. If we keep his doctor from helping the people he was trying to save, we'll dishonor his sacrifice. And." He tried to smile but it fell apart at the edges. "He'll be furious if he finds out."

There was a long silence. Then, in unison, Raph and Mikey moved to flank Leo.

"Go on," Raph said.

Leo looked between them. "Go where?"

"Go talk to him," Mikey said. "You need to, bro."

"We _all_ need to talk to him," Leo said, shaking his head.

But Raph gripped Leo's shoulder and held on. "Yeah. But you need it _now_."

Leo looked up and evaded the more unfamiliar eyes until he settled into Splinter's gaze.

Splinter nodded. "Go, my son. We will all have our chance. Go now, that your own heart begin to heal."

Leo felt a lump rise in his throat and he swallowed it with difficulty. "I...okay."

"If it helps," Zayton added, "he already knows about what really happened to you, the nano-neural damage you suffered from the alternate quantum reality. I communicated as much to him in the course of our work." His voice softened. "So you need not waste words on the trivial facts which are less important."

Leo nodded, grateful. "Thanks, Professor."

As he turned to the door, he could feel an exchange of looks and sympathy behind him – but he didn't look back. He passed through the door into Donatello's room moving slowly, as though swimming against glue.

Donatello had been blinking at the ceiling and turned his head slightly to see who had entered. Most of his face was hidden by the breathing mask, but Leo could see a quirk in his brother's eyes that he thought signalled surprise.

Leo crossed the floor, eyes trailing over Don's body. He was so pale. And thin. And there were countless lines of healing cuts and stitches and bandages everywhere across his exposed skin.

A chair, or something like one, was positioned next to the bed and Leo sank into it on knees that wobbled.

The words he needed to say broke out of him without any preamble.

"Don...I was wrong about so many things. _So_ many. But the thing I was most wrong about was you."

Leo moved, hesitated, his hand frozen in midair as if he was afraid to even touch his brother.

Donatello reached up and intercepted his hand, gripping it with fingers that shook.

Leo gulped.

"I've wanted to tell you all this time… Maybe...maybe there was no place for a computer engineer in Usagi's world...but there _always_ should have been a place for my brother."

It hurt to say, and Leo couldn't help but feel furious guilt that the pain he experienced from admitting it was nothing, _nothing_ to Donatello's who had been living it.

"When we came back...when things started making sense again...we didn't want you back because of the lair you built. Or the computer stuff you can do. We didn't...we didn't miss you because you're a genius.

"We missed you because we're not whole without you. Because we are brothers."

Leo blinked his eyes shut but courage forced him to open them again so he could look into Donatello's own.

"Even...if you don't want to be anymore."

Leo tightened his grip on Don's hand.

"If you...still mean what you said...if we're not family to you...I just want you to know…"

A tear fought its way out of Leo's eye and burned on his skin.

"You will _always_ be my brother, Donatello. Even if...you can't stand having me for yours. Even if...you can't be in a Clan with any of us anymore."

A second tear slid after the first.

"No matter what...you're my brother. My family. And I love you. And I missed you...and if I can't be with you...I will keep on missing you... _always_."

Leo almost bent his head to give into the urge to weep, but for a slight tug on his hand. He looked at where Donatello's own fingers were entwined with his, at where Donatello's faded energy held on with as much strength as he had left.

_As he always did. No matter what, he always held on._

Don tugged on Leo's hand again.

Leo fell like his own broken grief and collapsed on top of Donatello. He had just enough self-control not to crush his brother, nor to interfere with the Utrom versions of wires and tubes that ran into and away from his body. But he found a gap and folded into it as if he were a child again, climbing into Splinter's lap after a nightmare.

And Donatello's other hand came up and cradled the back of Leo's head, tucking him into his arms.

"Donnie…"

Don's hand dropped his, freeing his arm to wind around behind Leo's shell.

"I'm sorry. I'm _so_ sorry. I'm _sorry_ , Donnie. I'm...I'm so sorry…"

He didn't quite sob and no more tears fell, but Leo couldn't stop himself from dropping into an almost senseless state, confessing his sins and apologizing to his brother whom he had harmed so grievously, whom he had almost lost. The words spilled from him helplessly, all the bottled up self-recriminations and fears pouring out in a long, incomprehensible tangle.

And Donatello rubbed his shell and cradled his head and did not let go.

At some point, Leo blinked himself back to awareness, his feelings raw and his throat dry. He tipped his head up and shifted so he could meet Donatello's eyes.

Which were wet and warm and so very full of emotion.

"Donnie?"

Donatello could not really bend his expression much between the mask that covered the lower half of his face and the tube down his throat, but something in the crinkles around his eyes and the way his eye-ridges rose reminded Leo of a smile.

Don raised his hand from Leo's shell and moved it between them.

He pointed to Leo's chest. Then he flattened his palm against his own heart.

Leo understood. Whatever else, Donatello still loved him, too.

"I know you might need time to forgive us," Leo said before he could prevent himself. "I know there is so much you probably need to tell us. It's okay. You can have whatever time you need. I'm here, little brother. I'm right here and I'm not going anywhere."

The crinkles around Don's eyes deepened and the wetness overflowed very slightly. Donatello moved his hand to rest his fingers against Leo's own heart.

Leonardo shifted his weight to free an arm and reached up, catching Don's hand and squeezing it against his plastron.

"I'm right here. And you're right here where you belong, where you _always_ belonged. Right here beside me. Okay? No matter what happens, I'll keep you here." He pressed Don's fingers until he could feel his pulse beating against them.

Don nodded slightly, but his eyes were beginning to glaze over.

Leo sat up more fully, letting Don's hand fall from his chest but keeping hold of it.

"Rest, my brother. I'll be here when you wake up. I promise."

And there was no fear in Donatello's eyes as they closed and he fell asleep.

Leo waited until he was completely certain his brother was deeply unconscious before he even dared shift his position. Then he rearranged Don's arms so they were down more comfortably before he snagged the chair he'd abandoned with a foot to drag it to the side of the bed. He moved to where he could sit with his legs folded up so he could meditate, but he could still easily rest one hand on Don's own.

"I'll be here. I'm not going anywhere," he whispered. "And if you can let me, I won't leave you ever again."

-==OOO==-

For the next several days, the multi-family group settled into a rotation. Everyone took a turn sitting alone with Donatello for a few hours while the others kept themselves busy. The turtles and Splinter trained – though only a bit as the suite was fairly small and none wished to go elsewhere. Leatherhead consulted with Donatello's healers and made his own recommendations. Zayton worked endlessly on the files that had been pushed from the Architect's ship to try to get them into some semblance of an order for analysis, as well as advising on the construction of robotic bodies for the minds who required them.

However, after the second day, Mortu was the busiest by far, having to help cleanup the Homeworld. He had also been summoned to the High Council and returned within the same hour looking both annoyed and relieved.

When Mortu entered the room again in his robo-organic suit. Leatherhead immediately looked up.

"How did it go?"

"How did what go?" Raph asked.

"I was called before the High Council to receive the punishment they delayed earlier due to the attack on the Stem."

Leo could feel the tension in the room getting thick. "And?"

Mortu recited with the exact inflection of the Council – which would have earned him at least a few smiles if the situation weren't so serious. "You are sentenced to one flow of planet-arrest and must retake all mandated trainings and certifications before you can be permitted to serve outside this building in your capacity as head of the Secrete Obscura."

Mikey blinked. "Wait...so, you're basically grounded?"

"Effectively. With extra homework." Mortu quirked an Earth smile. "Which I find vastly preferable to being sent to the edge of the Collective for some meaningless busy-work task as a punishment instead. They even reinstated me in the Secrete."

"Sounds like a reward more than a punishment to me," Raph said.

"It is meant to be taken as such, I believe," Zayton spoke up. "Other than the recertification, which I am certain will be tedious enough as assignments go. But this permits the High Council to continue to rely upon Mortu and to maintain the trust the Secrete holds for him. As well as a guarantee that Mortu will not be called off-planet while our situation here is still so delicate."

More quietly, Leatherhead added, "Until they know how Donatello will fare, it is a kindness to keep him here with us."

Splinter was in the room with Donatello and Leo simply nodded, but Raph twitched and Mikey scowled.

"He's _our_ brother, you know," Mikey grumbled.

"Yes, he is," Mortu turned to the orange-banded turtle. "And you would not wish to be pulled from his side at this time, either."

"Speaking of which." Splinter walked in. "Michelangelo, I believe you would do well to sit with your brother now."

Mikey gave a backwards glance to the rest of the room and headed to Don's with his shoulders up.

"Is Michelangelo all right?" Leatherhead asked.

Raph huffed a breath. "I think it's tough on him. We all feel bad. But for Mikey...I dunno. He doesn't like the idea of you guys bein' Don's family."

"I believe," Splinter said, "that what Michelangelo fears, perhaps unconsciously, is that he will be forgotten by Donatello as he himself forgot Donatello in the other dimension. But Michelangelo is not yet ready to face that truth, so it burns at him from inside."

He ducked his head. "Please forgive him in this. He is not as experienced in navigating difficult matters of the heart."

"I don't know that any of us are acting like our best selves right now," Leo added.

-==OOO==-

But when, five days later, the doctors took the tube out of Donatello's throat and began disconnecting most of the many wires that had monitored him closely, there was no sign of animosity. No show of resentment or sorrow. From anyone.

How could there be sorrow when the doctors cleared the room and Don smiled at them all?

"Hi guys."

Not one of them would have thought three more turtles, one rat, one Fugitoid, one mutated crocodile, and one Utrom could all pile into Donatello's bunk to hug him – and cry on him, for some – but they could and they absolutely did.

To Don himself, even the embrace of the Heart couldn't compare. In spite of the chaos.

"This is yours. I was only keepin' it for ya," Raph muttered close to Don's ear, draping the Astrocyte medallion back over his head.

"Are you in any pain?" Leatherhead peered at the still-healing wounds that were closing well but looked tender.

"You scared me so bad all my hair fell out! Oh, wait." Mikey grinned.

And for a moment, everything seemed fine.

Even though it wasn't.

Splinter glanced at his pocket. He had offered Donatello his purple bandana several times, and always it had been gently rebuffed. And now, while Raphael was able to restore the medallion and Michelangelo encouraged laughter and Donatello got an arm around Leonardo who seemed beyond words – all was still not as it should be.

For Don had renounced his Clan. And had not un-renounced it.

Splinter was beginning to wonder if he ever would.

-==OOO==-

"Hey."

Two days later, Don looked up to see Raphael peeking in. "Your turn, then?" He managed a small smile. He was rather touched at the constant company whose hourly schedule was rigorously enforced.

"Yeah."

After a moment, Don blinked. "You know, you can spend it _in_ here. You don't have to stay out in the hall."

Raph leaned on the wall just inside the doorway. "I just… I don't get it, Donnie."

Don sighed. Raph had said barely two words in all his shifts before now – Don should have figured eventually the hotheaded turtle would get around to what was bothering him. "Don't get what, Raph?"

"I get foolin' the Architect, and I get your whole plan but… how'd you say all that stuff to us? 'Bout us not bein' family?" He made a nose suspiciously like snorting back tears. "Unless it was really true?"

Don closed his eyes. Leave it to Raph to wait until he could barely stand it to ask the hardest questions. "A lot of it was. And the rest… well. I think I can safely say it was worse for me than for you."

"I ain't doubting that, Donnie. As bad as it was to hear how much we hurt you, I can't imagine actually breaking the Clan bond. How'd you even manage it?"

"Pain associated with you guys became something familiar and normal to me, Raph. Once you accept loss as a part of your life every minute of the day, it's not so hard to add more on top. Besides, I didn't think I'd survive. I hoped it would be easier on everybody if we weren't Clan when I died."

"It wouldn't have been."

"Well, maybe not, no."

" _Definitely_ not." Raph made his way into the room and perched on the edge of the bed. "When… when we came back and you weren't there… I thought I was gonna _explode_. And when we first saw you on that ship… _Shell_ , Don. It was like something tore me apart from inside."

"I know."

"Was that how it was for you? Living here alone? Leaving Earth? Pretending to betray the Utrom?"

"Probably something similar, I guess."

"How'd you stand it? You were hurting like that for _months_."

"Believe me, I know. I haven't forgotten a day of it. But… well. I couldn't give up."

Raph picked at Don's blanket for a long moment. When he spoke, his voice was low and almost vulnerable. "How come? Why'd you wait for us after what we… what _I_ did to ya?"

"If you'd asked me that while I was still on Earth, I wouldn't have been able to say why. I just did. But… when I left, when I came to the Utrom Homeworld… when I got my head on straight and started studying some meditative lessons left behind by Master Yoshi… then it made sense. I… I held on because I wanted to. Because…"

"Because?"

"Because I wanted this connection again. It's what I told the Architect. If I gave up on all of you, then I really would lose you forever. I had to keep going if I ever wanted a chance of having you all back again."

"So you didn't give up...because you wanted us to come back. But you didn't know we would."

Don's hand crept across the blanket and caught Raph's. "No. But I trusted you guys with everything before. And I guess I still trust you even now. I didn't know for sure you'd come back, but I trusted you anyway."

He gulped and added, "If we'd been different… if I had _always_ been weird and alone, maybe I wouldn't have. If my whole life had been like it was in Usagi's world… maybe I wouldn't have bothered waiting for you. But it wasn't. I knew what we were supposed to be. I had to keep trusting you'd remember someday, too."

"Would you've...you know...sided with the Architect then? If we'd always been like that to you?"

Don scowled. "No! Of course not!" Then, with a little huff and a sigh, "I'd have been lonely and dysfunctional, not dishonorable."

"Oh."

More quietly, Don said, "And I'd hope you know better than that by now."

"I _do_ know that. I'm just stupid sometimes. You should know that by now, too."

"You're not stupid, Raph. Not at all. You just don't think things through now and then."

"Yeah. I… I sure wasn't thinking things through this time." Raph gripped the hand he held hard enough to bruise.

Don waited, watching Raph filter his thoughts into something he could explain.

"I'm...I'm _sorry_ , Donnie. I'm sorry for all of it. More'n I can tell ya. And what you said about trusting us…I trust you, too, bro, and always will. And I promise. I… I swear on anything you wanna name… I won't do it again. Won't leave you. No matter how much of a shellhead I am. You… you don't have to worry. Okay? Even if Leo moved to New Jersey or Mikey went off with the Justice Force or something. I'm… I'm not leavin' you behind again, Donnie. I _swear_."

Don nodded and closed his eyes, though he couldn't have said if it was from the creeping exhaustion that had yet to leave him or his own reaction to his brother's words. Donatello had dreamed of such certainty for _so long_ ; to have it come _now_ , it hurt.

He knew it would only make Raph feel worse to know that his vow was treading on Don's barely-healed emotions, though, so he opted not to say anything at all.

But Raphael wasn't done. "I talked to Sensei today. I mean, we all did. As soon as you're feelin' up for it, he and Leo are naming you second-in-command. Leo's chunin. And I think everybody's thinking about asking you to be Clan Heir instead of him, too."

Don's eyes flew open in surprise. "What? Why?"

"Because you're older than us now, right?" There was Raph's trademark smirk. "By a couple of years, even."

" _Raph_!" Don's voice was high and a little panicky. "Are you _serious_?"

"Uh, yeah. Sorry. It's just…" Raph gulped. "It makes sense. I mean, I get it, why you should be in charge of me and Mikey and even Leo. You...you took care of us when we weren't even _there_. You did everything right."

Don shook his head. "No, I did everything _wrong_. That's why things got so out of hand with the Architect."

Raph shrugged. "I guess they don't see it that way, Donnie-boy. And neither do I."

"But...but...I can't! I can't…"

A low whine started up from the monitor overhead and some lights that had been pale brown changed to orange. Don's breathing was speeding up, and Raph stood, dropping the hand he held as though it burned. "I'll go get Leatherhead and the Professor. I didn't mean to upset ya."

He was out of the room before Don could stop him.

 _Chunin?_ A new pang of guilt washed through him. _They wouldn't do that if they knew about everything. The others must not have explained it all. I thought...I thought they understood how it will have to be and had forgiven me anyway. But they don't know. And...let's be honest...they probably won't understand it even if they do forgive. Not that it really matters. I never figured I would even get this far._

_I wonder how mad they'll be when they realize I'll never be able to come home._

A moment later, the door slid open to reveal Leatherhead and Zayton who entered at a quick stride.

"Donatello?" Zayton asked. "Are you all right? Raphael said he thought something was wrong."

Leatherhead was looking at the display above Don's head, checking the readings. "Nothing seems specifically amiss here." He looked to his friend. "So perhaps not a medical problem, but an emotional one. You were distressed by something?"

Don frowned at them. "You could say that." He pushed himself up on an elbow to try to face them more evenly. "You didn't tell the guys or Master Splinter."

"Didn't tell them what?" Leatherhead asked.

Zayton's head dipped a fraction. "Oh."

"Yeah. _Oh_."

Leatherhead could see Donatello was struggling with his weakened muscles and leaned down to help him into a sitting position. The cold, annoyed glitter in Don's eyes was sharp, and as soon as his arms were not holding his own weight he crossed them across his plastron and glared at Zayton.

"My friends," Leatherhead said, "I believe I am missing something."

"You were resting when Mortu came to speak with me," Zayton said to him. "I simply...chose to keep the information to myself for now. But I am surprised, Donatello. We did not approach you. We wished you to have more time to recover first before we broached the subject."

Don's beak twitched, as if he were caught between a glower and a smirk. "I know the law, Zayton. I checked it myself when we were still in the early stages. I wanted to know exactly how bad it was going to be."

Leatherhead grew still. "You were acting in the best interest of everyone. The Council will understand."

"Oh, I don't think they're going to sentence me the way they did the Shredder – but not by much." Don's shrug was tight and there was nothing careless in it. "They'll at least give me a blanket when they banish me to freeze to death."

Leatherhead's stillness took on an air of danger and his pupils began to contract. He reached for the communicator at his waist. Without looking away from Donatello, he hit the button a little too hard – the sound of the case groaning was audible in the suddenly quiet room. "Mortu. Join us. _Now_."

"I intend to speak on behalf of Donatello," Zayton said, though even he did not get between Donatello and their increasingly-furious friend. "And I have a few tricks of my own prepared that I will not hesitate to use should the decision be in doubt. Please calm yourself, Leatherhead."

"You risked your life," Leatherhead said, not turning away from Don. "You meant to die up there. They will _not_ treat you like a common criminal when you did what _they_ would never have dared."

The door slid open and Mortu came through, his robo-organic body moving at speed.

"What has happened?" he asked.

Donatello leaned forward to peer around Leatherhead. "LH just found out that the Council is bringing me up on charges for terrorism, conspiracy to commit war crimes, massive property damage, and whatever you call trying to take over the world here."

"Attempted planetary domination by illegal and dangerous means," Mortu answered automatically.

Leatherhead's jaw snapped with a loud crack. "How _dare_ they?"

Mortu's suit's arms raised in a robot's approximation of a shrug. "It's their job to assure the laws and needs of the Collective are being met. You know that. In this case, they want to debate it openly. They want to broadcast the entire trial to the Collective and all our affiliates so everyone can stand witness."

"Broadcasted? Publicly? You said nothing of this before." Now Zayton's voice took on tones of disapproval. "They'll ruin Donatello's good name!"

"They just want to make sure there is no confusion…" But Mortu was forced to take a step back when Leatherhead advanced on him, growling and flexing his claws, his tail lashing.

Leatherhead – whose eyes were slitted and narrow and no longer their friend's.

But before Mortu could debate using a stunning blast or Zayton could reach for a sedative, there was a blur of olive-green.

"Leatherhead, don't. Please!" Donatello had shoved himself from his bed and, in spite of trembling with weakness, stood between his friends, right in Leatherhead's path with arms outstretched.

"I won't let them hurt you, Donatello." Leatherhead's voice was rough and low when it emerged from between his teeth and the hissing of his breath.

"Please, don't do this. Don't give into your anger. Not for me. Please, Leatherhead." Donatello took a step forward until he was actually standing under Leatherhead's jaw and put two shaky hands against Leatherhead's chest. " _Please_." It was almost a sob.

Leatherhead's big arms came up like walls separating Donatello from the other two. "You should not be hurt."

"I won't be. I'm sure of it. The Utrom are good, Leatherhead. You know that. They won't be cruel to me. Think of how kind they were to you as a child. How generous they've been since we came to live here. These are our people now. Remember?"

Leatherhead's arms slowly dropped and settled around Donatello's shoulders.

Donatello sighed into the embrace. "Mortu's our family, Leatherhead. And Zayton is here. And you're here. I know you won't let anything unfair happen to me."

Leatherhead's snout dropped and his eyes closed. He stood like that for a long moment, trembling faintly against Donatello's head. Donatello, remembering something quite similar from what felt like a lifetime ago, breathed slowly and deeply, imitating the rhythm of the example Leatherhead had used on him all the way back on Earth. Leatherhead copied it reluctantly.

But when he at last lifted his head, though he did not release Donatello, his eyes were clear.

They were solemn, however, when he turned them on the young friend in his arms. "And what is unfair, Donatello? For saving so many, what punishment will they assign? And could any punishment be fair after what you have already suffered?"

Don's relief at Leatherhead's more normal gentleness, as well as a measure of annoyance, combined and spilled out together in an explosive sigh. "Now _you're_ doing it!"

"Doing what?"

"You're treating me like I'm helpless, like my brothers did. Like I was just a pawn being used." Don leaned back in Leatherhead's hold and frowned up at him. "I made a choice. That choice has consequences. I accepted those consequences before we ever entered the atmosphere. I'm not going to let you treat me like a kid who can't own up to his actions."

While watching them, Zayton realized that for all his friend's brave words, Donatello was still shaking. He did not know if fear was part of it, but assumed injury and weakness surely must be. He put a metal hand on Leatherhead's arm and was relieved when it was not torn off. "He is exhausted."

"I'm _fine_."

"You are _not_ fine," Leatherhead dipped his head to look more closely at the sweat that gathered at his friend's temples and to take his pulse. "You are still recovering."

"I'm perfectly capable of being fine while _also_ still recovering, you know." His argument, while well-intentioned, fell slightly flat as he wobbled on his unsteady legs and was obliged to rest his weight on Leatherhead.

"I believe the correct word to describe you at this moment, rather than 'fine' _or_ 'recovering' is 'grumpy,' is it not?" Mortu asked, smiling slightly.

"No." Donatello shook his head even as he allowed Leatherhead to help him back to the bed. "Grumpy is what you get when you stiff me on coffee. I haven't had _any_ coffee since I got back, which I calculate is almost _a quarter-rhythm_. I'm _way_ past grumpy and moving into turtle-tantrum territory."

"Raphael would be proud to know you have not lost that talent in his absence," Leatherhead told him fondly. "Now rest and I will bring you a mug later."

"Yes!" he cheered as he toppled into the bed and sagged back against his mountainous pillows. "I knew I liked you, LH."

At Donatello's familiar smile, his three friends relaxed, settling around his bedside more easily.

"So what shall we do about the impending Council?" Zayton asked.

All eyes turned to Mortu.

"Technically, there will be two trials," he said. "In the first, they will try Donatello as a civilian for endangering the planet and the Heart. The second will try him as a member of the Secrete Obscura for the attack on the Stem. The latter will be closed, because knowledge of the Stem is extremely limited outside the Council and the Secrete. But the former…"

He sighed.

"I can't stop them from broadcasting the trial. And I do think such publicity has an advantage, but not the one they intend. They want to ensure that they can explain their decision fairly to the entire Collective while minimizing confusion. They also want to reassure the populace that the Homeworld and the Heart are truly and lastingly safe again. But what I think this will do, in addition to all that, is keep Donatello's acts of heroism and self-sacrifice at the forefront of the proceedings. Those Utrom who only saw him as an enemy will be faced with his true intentions."

"And you think this will help his case?" Zayton asked.

"I do. And I will take whatever action is within my power to ensure it." Mortu's eyes softened. "I cannot say what exactly the Council will do, but I will not let them treat Donatello like a criminal."

Don raised a finger pointedly. "Even though, by the letter of the law, I am one?"

"You are _not_ ," Zayton said firmly. "And we will prove it, my boy. Fear not."

That won a laugh from the turtle. "Fear? With you three watching my shell? Never."

His faith, still unshaken, seemed so bright against Donatello's own pallor and exhaustion that Leatherhead was forced to look away lest his feelings overtake him.

Then Don's head tipped in consideration. "But, speaking of that… Mortu, I'm surprised my family let you come bursting in here without following you. I didn't think they like you or trust you as much as we do, even now."

Mortu's fore-limbs wiggled impishly. "It helps that I sealed the door when I entered. Otherwise, I very much expect they might have joined us even uninvited."

Don groaned and buried his face in his hands. "Now they'll just worry all over again!"

"And when I leave, I will tell them you suffered a small relapse but are in no danger and they should give you some quiet so you can sleep to prevent another," Mortu replied. "You cannot help that they will worry, but your current infirmity is enough to prevent them from becoming suspicious, and that is all that matters."

"And on the matter of suspicions," Leatherhead looked over, "why did you not inform me of the trials?"

Zayton spoke up. "I believe we both wished to avoid the very reaction you nearly had to the news."

"That's why you didn't tell my family, either," Don dropped his hands and raised his head. "You didn't want them panicking or going on the warpath."

Mortu tipped forward in his suit in acknowledgement. "I know we must tell them eventually but…"

"Don't."

All three looked at Donatello in surprise.

Leatherhead's eye-ridges raised. "My friend?"

Donatello crossed his arms. "Don't tell them. I'm serious. Not a word. And lock down the suite so they can't find out. Not that they have the first clue about how to use most of our tech, and I'd be surprised if any of them but Master Splinter has even thought about anything like this, but still. I don't want them knowing about it when it happens."

"But they could help you, my boy. Support you in your hour of need," Zayton said.

A brittle look came back into Donatello's eyes, but his voice was firm. "I made this mess on my own. I went into it with my eyes wide open. Nobody is going to stand there and take blame for something I did. _Including_ you guys."

Leatherhead's snout twitched in a frown. "We will not permit you to face this alone."

"I won't _be_ alone. You'll be with me as witnesses. Mortu will be my advocate. But I also know that because of my age, the Council will want to have my legal guardian stand in for me." Donatello's eyes closed. "I'm not letting them show any of your faces across the galaxy when it was me who did this. The only person standing in the docket will be me."

Mortu's eyes widened. "You will waive your right of juvenile representation?"

That earned an indignant snort. "I really don't think that law is supposed to apply to supervillains, Mortu. Even underage supervillains."

"Well, no. I suppose… and they might not have taken it into account anyway, particularly when they judge you as a member of the Secrete. The entire situation is quite difficult given that you are the first being brought up on charges of this severity since…"

"Since Ch'rell, I know." Don sighed. "Trust me, it's not a distinction I'm proud to achieve."

It was Zayton who patted him on the shoulder. "My boy, I… I think I understand your position. As long as you will permit us to use whatever means we may conceive of to help support you and encourage a decision in your favor, we will respect your right to handle your affairs as you see fit. Including to keep your family and ourselves out of the spotlight for as long as we can."

Donatello managed a smile. "Thanks, Professor. Yeah, you guys can do whatever you want short of actually breaking laws, okay? Just...let me do this on my own. And don't tell my family. I'm sure they'll find out eventually when every screen from here to the Triceraton Senate lights up with the spectacle, but for now…"

Donatello had to fight a lump in his throat, but it was another battle he won. _Maybe the last one for a long, long time_ , he thought to himself.

"For now, let them think everything's going to be okay. I… I want them to have whatever peace and quiet they can before I wreck it for them again."

The energy seemed to flag out of him at the admission and Donatello did not argue when Leatherhead shifted him to lie down once more.

"Rest, my brother. When you wake, I will bring you some coffee as promised."

Half asleep, Don smiled faintly. "Thanks, bro."

Leatherhead, Zayton, and Mortu crept to the other end of the room, all watching the sensors above Donatello's head and waiting for him to fall truly asleep. It took mere moments – more proof of his exhaustion.

"Zayton, are you sure you know what you're doing?" Mortu asked.

Zayton gave a metallic shrug. "I told him we would respect his wishes. And we should. He has earned that much."

"I agree with that part, but…" Mortu trailed off.

However, a sly smile was stealing over Leatherhead's expression. "You did _not_ promise not to influence the Council in any way open to you. And while Donatello was clear on the subject of legality, your own agreement was rather vague."

"Intentionally so, for I shall indeed make use of all the skills I possess to ensure a favorable outcome in this matter. As will _both_ of you." Zayton could not quite glare at people through the Fugitoid's facade, so he increased the resonance of his voice instead. "They _will_ find in Donatello's favor one way or another, even if I have to threaten to reprogram every Utrom disc in the Collective to fly in the formation of an uncoordinated rendition of the dance from D'Hoonib's most tedious wedding rituals until they see sense."

Mortu's face twisted and he fought to keep from barking his laughter lest he wake Donatello. "Not _mine_ , surely."

" _That_ ," Zayton said, "depends entirely upon how _helpful_ you are before we reach the point of such desperate measures."

Leatherhead snorted, catching most of the sound in his snout. "I think perhaps the Homeworld might have been better off ruled by the Architect than at your combined mercies. The Collective may not endure."

"If it does not treat Donatello well after all he has done, it does not deserve to," Zayton said.

Not even Mortu could really argue with that.


	3. Pariah

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is one of those chapters I love particularly well. Maybe in my top 10 of the whole series. And it's also one I wrote huge portions of well before I'd even finished with Acts 6 and 7. I guess some things simply must be.
> 
> Enjoy!

It took Donatello another half-rhythm before he was mostly back to his usual stamina – once the worst of the injuries healed, his energy returned along with more steadiness on his feet.

Don's brothers and father were overjoyed to see him up and walking again, though he grumbled that he spent most of his walking time traveling between various doctors and labs to check his progress; he had not yet voiced any intent to return to ninja training and none of the Hamato Clan had yet found the right time to ask.

On the other hand, Leatherhead, Zayton, and Mortu grew more withdrawn and concerned as Donatello healed – for they knew as soon as he was recovered enough he would be called before the Council for the first, public trial.

When the official summons was finally to be issued, Mortu warned Leatherhead and Zayton ahead of time – they found excuses to leave the medical suite a few hours early so that they would be less likely to alert the other turtles and Splinter as to what was about to happen.

As soon as the summons were sent, Mortu found Donatello in his room alone for once, meditating. Don opened his eyes as soon as Mortu entered.

"It's time," he said.

Don nodded and rose. "I figured. I got the clearance for normal activity yesterday. They won't want to wait."

"They don't." Mortu hesitated. "Are you certain you still don't want them to know?"

"I'm sure." Don let out a deep breath and squared his shoulders. "But thanks." And he strode out into the common room.

Mikey looked up first. "Hey, Don. What's up?" He glanced at Mortu. "Going somewhere?"

Donatello shrugged at them. "Apparently I have to go give an interview about everything that happened. It's not really a big deal."

Leo rose. "Do you want us to come with you?"

Don shook his head. "Thanks. But no. I won't be gone long."

"My son."

Splinter moved to face Donatello. From his robe he drew Don's purple mask.

Don swallowed thickly and willed his expression to stay neutral.

"I ask you a second time, my son," Splinter's voice was soft and almost pleading. "Will you accept this from me again?"

Don drew in a breath a little shakily. He bowed to his father, but not low enough for Splinter to easily tie the mask on.

"Not yet, Sensei." When he rose, he met Splinter's eyes. "Please understand."

Splinter's face went tight with pain. "I do understand, my son. Know that when you are ready, this and your family will be waiting."

"Thank you, father."

Don looked back over the rest of his clearly concerned family. "Don't worry, guys. Just let me do this first."

"Donatello," Mortu said quietly.

"Yep, I know. I'm coming." Don waved a bit. "See you later!"

As the door slid shut behind Donatello and Mortu, Mikey looked at Leo and Raph. "I've got a _super_ bad feeling about this, dudes."

"As do I, Michelangelo," Splinter said, not looking away from where Don had gone. "As do I."

-==OOO==-

Once they were clear of the suite, Don's shoulders fell perceptibly.

Mortu hovered beside him. "It will be all right, my friend. Between us, we will see you through this."

Don sighed. "I know you'll do your best, but…"

They stepped through another door where several members of the Guardians stood. Bonani Owens moved forward, his face stony.

"Donatello, we have been ordered to escort you to the High Council for your trial." He paused, then his mouth curled with distaste. "We are required to restrain you."

Mortu darted forward on his disc. "You _cannot_ be serious! I won't allow you to treat Donatello like a common criminal!"

But Donatello raised his head and stepped between them, holding out his hands. "It's okay, Mortu. I figured as much."

Bonani's expression faltered. "I...confess I am not comfortable with doing this to you, my friend."

Don met his eyes. He couldn't smile, but he did nod. "I know. I appreciate that you came yourself. But I understand that you have to honor your duties. I'm not going to hold it against you, Bonani."

He continued to hold his hands out.

Donatello didn't look up at the other Guardians, but he could see them peripherally – distressed and uncomfortable, every single man and woman who had been his friends and sparring-partners and allies – as Bonani locked the heavy manacles over his forearms.

That done, Don relaxed. _It's almost over. Just a little more and then I can let myself feel everything I'm about to lose._

The Guardians surrounded Donatello on a transport which carried him to a lower level of the High Council building. He remembered how at Ch'rell's trial the prisoners had entered on a hovering platform that came from the floor of the main chamber and was not surprised he would be treated the same way.

"Donatello," Mortu said, following him onto the very platform where Don was to wait for the affair to begin. "I ask you one more time – will you please let me or one of the others stand with you?"

Don shook his head. "No. You'll be my advocate in the room. That's enough. I don't want your reputation to get hurt along with mine."

"My reputation does not mean as much to me as it does to you, I think. I would sacrifice much more if it would help you."

Don nodded. "I know. Thank you."

He gave a half-bow and held still. Mortu, understanding, met him in midair so their foreheads could touch very softly.

"May the Heart of the Homeworld hold you in its embrace," Mortu whispered. "I will not be far."

Mortu's disc beeped.

"Go on," Don said. "See you topside." He managed a smile.

Mortu did not return it when he left Donatello in place and made his own way up into the chamber. The High Council was already assembled and waiting for him.

"Mortu. We have reviewed your petition to act as advocate for Astrocyte Donatello. This is your right as he remains a tuastum under your care, but we are concerned about your clarity and impartiality with competing loyalties. Can you speak on behalf of him while recalling your duty to the Secrete Obscura and the Homeworld?"

Mortu found that the question steadied him.

"I affirm that I have lost no clarity in accepting this position and I am prepared to face these proceedings as fairly as possible. While I am...close to this situation, I believe I possess the emotional distance to serve as Donatello's advocate during the trial."

"Would you not be better served to help your tuastum as his juvenile representative?"

"Donatello has chosen to waive his right to representation," Mortu answered. "And I support him in this. Though chronologically young by our standards, he has the mind of an adult and has made his decisions based upon his own reasoning which I find to be sound."

There was a brief pause while the Council considered.

"We have decided to accept the truthfulness of your word that you can act as advocate without allowing your personal feelings too much sway in the proceedings," the High Council said at last. "However, if we feel you are proving to be emotionally compromised, we reserve the right to end your function as advocate and turn it over to someone not affiliated with the defendant."

"Thank you, High Council," Mortu said. "I understand."

"Then let us begin."

-==OOO==-

Suddenly every screen in the room lit up.

"By the request of the High Council, we invite all members of the Collective to stand witness to today's trial of the terrorist, Astrocyte Donatello."

"Terrorist!" Leo leaped to his feet.

"Trial?" Raph growled.

Mikey's eyes were huge. "Donnie?"

Splinter rose and his tail lashed once with barely-restrained anger. "My sons. We must go now."

The four bolted from the suite at top speed. But as fast as they ran, they could not avoid the screens everywhere that showed their brother, manacled, standing alone on a dais before the High Council – in the same position that the Shredder and Karai and Chapman had been once before.

The words filled the very air.

"Astrocyte Donatello, native of Earth and citizen of the Utrom Collective, you are charged with aiding and abetting a known murderer, massive property damage to the Homeworld, endangering the Heart of the Homeworld, conspiracy to commit war crimes, acts of terrorism, and attempted planetary domination by illegal and dangerous means. Please state for the record your name and legal status."

Splinter stopped his mad sprint for a moment, his sons joining him, to watch.

Donatello lifted his head. When he spoke, his voice was sorrow-filled but steady.

"I am Astrocyte Donatello, legal citizen of the Collective. And I have, knowingly and intentionally, waived my right of juvenile representation. I am well aware that I have the legal option for a guardian or advisor to stand with me, but I have chosen to proceed alone."

"Very well."

Splinter glanced to his sons. All three were vibrating with the force of their emotions. He noted that Donatello had not identified himself with the name Hamato. As he had not since breaking the Clan bond.

It was Mikey who put into words what they were all thinking. "No _way_ , bro. You're _not_ alone."

"And you ain't doing _this_ alone, either," Raph added.

Leo turned. "Come on. We need to hurry."

They continued to run, trying and failing to ignore the legal rhetoric that was already beginning the proceedings against Donatello.

-==OOO==-

The detailed reading of the procedures for the trial seemed to last forever, but in reality it was only a matter of agonizing minutes before the Council concluded them.

"Astrocyte Donatello. At this time, we of the High Council are required to ask for your plea. Even after you plead, we will ask you to account for your actions in your own words. Your plea is not binding on our final decision. Do you understand?"

"Yes, I do."

"And what is your plea?"

Donatello took a deep breath. "I plead guilty to any and all charges."

"The _shell_ you do, Donnie!"

Raph's bellow was still echoing in the chamber when three turtles and one rat burst onto one of the platforms looking down on Donatello's position. Without hesitation, all four of them jumped to land in a defensive formation around their fifth.

"Guardians!" the High Council shouted. "Stop them!"

"Wait!" Mortu yelled, the force of his order halting the Guardians who had been preparing to spring after the turtles and Splinter. Leatherhead moved so that he stood between the central force of Guardians and their objective.

"What is the meaning of this, Mortu?"

Mortu floated to face the High Council. "They mean no harm. Donatello surrendered willingly and they will not force him to go back on his word of honor. But they are his other family. Although he has waived his rights, he is still a juvenile. Please give them a moment together."

"This is highly irregular, Mortu."

"I agree. But everything about this is irregular. If the turtles and their father disrupt our proceedings, then we can remove them. But let them speak to him first. Please."

The members of the High Council closed their eyes as one. "Very well. Hamato Clan, you may proceed."

"Thank you, honored ones," Splinter said, offering a bow. Only when he turned away did the others also face Don, trusting the Utrom to keep their word.

"Donnie, what the _shell_ were you thinkin'?" Raph grabbed at his shoulder. "How could you just waltz in here like this?"

"Yeah! This is the stupidest plan ever, and I mean, like _ever_!" Mikey was not laughing even a little.

But Leo held up a hand and waited until Don met his eyes. "I understand that you wanted to accept the consequences for your actions, but...how could you think you had to do it alone? All of us would have come with you. You shouldn't have shut us out."

Donatello swallowed a lump in his throat and his eyes were dim. "I know that. But I didn't...I didn't want anybody else to get hurt because of me."

Splinter stepped forward and placed a hand on Don's arm above the manacles. "Will you tell us what do you mean by this, my son?"

Don let out a breath, grateful for Splinter's choice of words. Splinter had known all about the possibility of a trial; Don had known that if he survived the Architect and even if all went according to his plans, he would be held accountable for his actions. Splinter had seen as much in his shared meditations with Donatello. But Splinter had not yet acted to stop Don, and even now invited him to explain himself on his own terms rather than giving away all that he had seen in his son's mind.

"I've...I've already caused enough problems. We didn't...I didn't actually hurt anyone when I was working with the Architect, but that's not the only way I've ruined things for the Homeworld. I threatened and scared millions of people. I...I risked the very Heart of the Collective."

Mikey gulped. "Yeah, but that didn't mean you had to go to court on your own. So why did you?"

Don looked into his eyes. "Because it's bad enough that every being across the galaxy from here to beyond the Triceraton Republic is going to see this and know what I did. I couldn't...I didn't want them to look at you the way they look at me. I didn't want you to be part of this. You can't be blamed for what I did."

Raph's anger melted from his stance. "I'd rather be blamed _with_ ya than make ya shoulder it all on your own, Donnie."

Leo reached forward and cupped a hand around Donatello's head. "You've been alone too long, bro. I understand what you intended, but now _you_ need to understand that we're _not_ going to let you face this on your own. We need to be a family again. And we can only do that if we stay beside you, no matter what."

Don's eyes went wet and he leaned his head against Leo's hand. "Leo...I…"

Splinter turned away from them and faced the High Council. "Honored ones, I offer you my vow in the name of Hamato Yoshi that none of my family will attempt either violence nor escape for the duration of this trial. May we remove Donatello's chains?"

He glanced back at his son. "He is honorable and wears them without complaint for you, but his brothers and I are still troubled by these events. To see Donatello bound...causes us great distress."

Mortu spoke up. "In a show of goodwill, and as proof the High Council's own honor can be trusted, I hope we can agree to such a small request."

There was a pause before the High Council replied, "Very well. Guardian Owens?"

"That will not be necessary," Splinter said, offering a partial bow. He turned back. "Leonardo, release your brother."

Leo ducked his head to his father and turned, drawing his blades. Don held out his arms unflinchingly.

"Don't worry," Leo said in a low voice. "You're safe."

That won him a tiny half-smile. "I know that. I never stopped knowing that. As long as you were in your right mind, you would never hurt me."

Leo nodded, though his throat went suddenly tight, and struck at the manacles with his katana, easily cutting them from Don's arms without so much as nicking the skin. After the cuffs hit the platform with a dull thud and Leo slid his katana back into their sheathes on his back, he gripped his brother's hand.

"And you would never hurt us. Or anyone else. Now let's prove it."

Don took a deep breath. But when he looked up, his eyes trailed to the members of the High Council above and not the family around him.

"In accordance with the laws of the Homeworld, I would like to offer to submit myself to examination by the Oracle Pods."

Mortu shifted in the air. "Donatello, has this been cleared with your doctors?"

"The injuries I sustained to any part of my brain were minimal. Besides," and his smile went rueful, "the Oracle Pods have absolutely _nothing_ on the Architect's own methods for brutality. They won't hurt me."

"However," came the voice of the High Council, "as you were able to resist the Architect, there is a possibility that what we would perceive within your mind would be inaccurate, even if by no ill will of your own."

Don shrugged. "I wouldn't intentionally lie to you, but I can see that you can't necessarily take that at face value. It _would_ save us all a lot of time, though."

"We are not concerned with time, Astrocyte Donatello. Only with reaching the most correct conclusion and maintaining the well-being of the Collective."

Don let out a long breath and looked at his feet.

"In that case, I'm ready to begin."

"First, due to the presence of your biological family we feel we must ask you one final time if you wish to waive your right of juvenile representation."

Don blinked and his head came up. "You guys know that Master Splinter's technically too young by the standards of the Homeworld to qualify, right?"

"By the strictest interpretation of the law, yes. However, he has been considered your parent by the Council before and he is of sufficiently advanced in age against his original species that we would consider him an acceptable person to fill the place as your guardian for the duration of this trial."

"Consider, my son," Splinter said. "You need not continue alone."

Don met his father's eyes without despair, but with a great deal of conviction.

"I know that, Sensei. I wasn't alone before and I'm sure not alone now. But I will still stand here and face these charges on my own. And besides." He quirked a half-smile. "I definitely know more about Utrom legal codes than you. No offense."

"The High Council accepts your decision, Astrocyte Donatello. Hamato Splinter, please remove yourself and your other sons to the viewing area at this time."

Splinter frowned darkly but gave a short nod. "Very well." He turned to his sons. "Come. Your brother has made his choice."

"Don." Leo shifted until he was in front of Donatello. "Are you sure this is the _right_ choice?"

"I'm sure, Leo." He put a hand on Leo's shoulder. "It's not just honorable to take responsibility for my actions – it's necessary. _I_ did this, Leo. _Me_. It's the right choice for me to stand here and face that, no matter what."

"Yeah, but I don't much like the sound of 'no matter what,' Donnie," Raph put in.

Don tipped his head to him. "Come on, Raph. Karai almost helped the Shredder escape out into the universe and the Council sent her home with a slap on the wrist. It isn't going to be that bad."

Raph looked mollified but Mikey looked even more worried. "Why don't I believe you?"

Don shrugged. "Taking too many lessons from Leo on being suspicious?"

"All right," Leo said after a moment. "But we'll be right there if you need us."

Don nodded. "I know. Thanks, guys."

Splinter spared a moment to press a hand to his son's before he led the other three turtles in abandoning the platform and jumping to a clear area from which to watch.

"Sensei, is this really a good idea?" Mikey whispered as soon as they had taken their places along one side.

"We must trust in your brother, my son," Splinter replied. "And, more importantly, that the justice of the Utrom which my Master Yoshi served remains true."

Raph and Leo exchanged speaking glances.

_And if it doesn't, well, Master Splinter only promised we wouldn't interfere with the trial. He didn't say anything at all about us interfering afterwards if it comes to that._

Don turned to look up at the High Council. "Okay. I'm ready now."

"We will begin by detailing the charges against you."

-==OOO==-

_At least one thing is consistent_ , Don thought a few hours later. _At least all courts move slowly and are boring and it's not just an Earth thing._

But it had also been rather painful to watch the details of everything he had done on the Homeworld dissected to a fine degree of detail. Every building, every loss of necessary defenses that were meant to protect the Heart, to say nothing of the enormous risk posed by infiltrating and leaking information to the Enlightened Ones, it all piled upon Donatello's shell like a weight.

The only facts omitted concerned the attack by the Enlightened Ones on the Stem, for this was information that was too dangerous to share publicly. It was referenced, but no specifics were provided at any time to ensure that the secret of the Stem remained secret.

Even without that, against the magnitude of his crimes, he felt he might shatter.

They had offered him a break two hours into the ordeal, but Donatello had refused it.

_No good reason to prolong this – for me or anybody else._

"Now, we call upon all witnesses to these events to share their recollections. Though we have refused Astrocyte Donatello use of an Oracle Pod, the option remains available for any others who wish to utilize it."

_At least that will speed things up a bit._

And it did. Leatherhead and Zayton both opted to submit themselves to the Pod which then projected their memories of the experience for all to see. Mortu was barred from doing so given his function as advocate, but his own memories were already on file as a member of the Secrete and so they were referenced as well to corroborate facts or recollections.

Other records of members of the Secrete – those Don had transported away from the Heart before the Architect's descent – were also presented. These detailed the hurried communications from Zayton at Donatello's request. The memories were edited slightly to obscure Donatello's own membership in the Secrete and the fact that he had used his authority to give orders to those members whose only job was the defense of the Heart, but they did show the plan Don had enacted and the willing cooperation of many Utrom agents.

Additionally, members of the Guardians and Secrete who had been present in the immediate aftermath also spoke of how the Architect's ship had been destroyed and how they had seen Donatello at the heart of that destruction, though the ultimate credit for protecting the Heart was reserved for his brothers who prevented the nearest edge of the ship from crushing it.

Donatello couldn't tell if he was relieved or not when his brothers and Splinter opted to testify in the normal way rather than projecting their thoughts and memories across the Collective. He kept his head down and tried not to look at them as they described their encounters with him and what he had done – and why.

"Then, if there are no more witness statements to be had…"

"There are. Very many more."

The ringing voice from across the room drew every eye as a small crowd of beings entered, mostly Utrom but with a few other peoples represented. Front and center stood Krian'daren.

"Please identify yourselves," the High Council said.

Krian'daren made a motion with her hands before she spread her arms wide.

"I am Krian'daren of the Homeworld Healing Academy and the Hoolann Medical Foundation. I will allow each person with me to speak if the Council wishes after I have given my testimony. These individuals all stand witness to the courage of Donatello – for they are the lives he saved that we had all thought lost."

She paused and fixed her gaze on Donatello himself.

"These are only some of the most recent beings who were victims of the Architect. Their minds had been irreparably damaged, or so we thought. But from what Donatello was able to find hidden in the Architect's telexistent file storage, and from what he transmitted to the Healing Academy at great personal risk, these are the first who have been restored."

Don couldn't stop himself. "How many, Krian'daren?" he called up to her.

She made a smile at him.

"We estimate we will be able to return the memories and brain patterns of at least ninety-five percent of the victims who are alive at this time, and at least eighty percent of those who have agreed to the use of an artificial body. Those whose care was handled off-world are being brought to the Homeworld for the procedures and the android bodies are already under construction."

She looked back up at the High Council.

"I would also like to testify that this recovery of those we had thought lost is not only due to Donatello's heroic sacrifice in facing the Architect, but also his scientific advancements as a part of the Science Institute. If not for his studies in telexistence, we might not have been able to preserve the digital forms of the brain patterns and memories for successful reintegration into my patients."

She paused.

"And let me confirm that, while I cannot give an exact number of beings who are likely to be restored, that number will ultimately count in the thousands. These are the lives restored by Donatello's courage and willingness to engage the Architect as he did."

The High Council spoke up. "We would ask you to provide your official testimony to these facts."

Because she could not enter the Pod – she might inadvertently release private information about her patients – the High Council proceeded to ask Krian'daren very specific questions about her patients, their recovery, and her role as well as Donatello's in securing the data that led to their current state. After she concluded, they spoke briefly with each of the individuals who had come with her to verify details and gauge their well-being.

When they were finished, the High Council again asked if any additional witnesses would choose to come forward to provide additional information.

None did.

"Mortu, it is your right as advocate to make a statement before we proceed."

Mortu glanced at Don who gave him a slight nod.

"Thank you, High Council, but I will decline for now. I would like to reserve the right to respond either during or after Donatello's own explanation."

"Very well. At this time, we invite Astrocyte Donatello to speak in his own defense. He may elaborate upon what we have already heard, but he must address the charges individually. He may also call upon the advocate Mortu for advice. Do you understand, Donatello?"

Don nodded. "Yes, I do."

"Then, in your own words, please answer to the charges of aiding and abetting a known murderer, massive property damage to the Homeworld, endangering the Heart of the Homeworld, conspiracy to commit war crimes, acts of terrorism, and attempted planetary domination by illegal and dangerous means."

Donatello drew in a deep breath.

"Okay. So. Um...aiding and abetting the Architect?" He gave a slight grimace. "I did that. It's true. I didn't actually help the Architect do anything harmful for most of my time with it, but I did help it evade detection and I fixed it up. And I'm not going to defend what the Architect did or the people it hurt and killed before I was there. But."

He was surprised to feel a lump growing in his throat.

"The thing that was so hard to see on the outside...the Architect was lonely. _Profoundly_ lonely. It had been trapped on its own home planet without a single living sentient species for eons. And it...I'm not sure it was ever supposed to be an _aware_ intelligence. When the people who built it died off, I don't think even they realized that the Architect was so close to attaining consciousness and sentience itself. But they died and this infant mind with too much processing power and no guidance was just...alone."

He stopped and took a moment to gulp. Then he looked up at the High Council.

"I think...maybe it's hard for anyone in the Council, or any Utrom, to fully understand that kind of desperation. In the Council, you're never alone, for good or ill. And for the Utrom, you're bound to one another and to the Homeworld through the Heart. You have something that holds you up when your own strength fails. You have something outside yourself to protect and that protects you. An anchor, a fixed point you can always trust to be steady."

The silence in the chamber meant his next words, half-whispered, still echoed with forlorn emotion.

"I...I was alone once, too, for a period of months on Earth. And it almost drove me to madness. I...had my own mental breakdown, maybe more than one – in spite of the fact that I wasn't even entirely isolated. There's...there's something that happens when you get abandoned like that. Something that corrupts every stitch of rationality, every thought, good or bad. If...if I'd stayed like that, I'm pretty sure I would have died at my own hand before long."

Don didn't dare look up to his family, couldn't bear to see their faces.

"But the Architect...didn't have that option. It _couldn't_ die. It didn't have the ability to shut off the power that fed its systems. As it watched the last bodies of its people disintegrate into dust and its world fall to ruins, it had nothing but its own thoughts and memories and programming. The command that had defined it was to regulate its world. To make things right. To make them safe. And it had failed."

He rubbed a fist across his beak.

"I'm still not trying to justify what it did. It was wrong. It did horrible things. But...I can see where that loneliness twisted it. Twisted reality and twisted its interpretation of its primary objectives until there was nothing left but a drive, a need so deep it was encoded into every line of programming, to make and maintain order over the entire galaxy so what had happened on its world would never be repeated."

Don tried to collect himself.

"So, yes. I aided and abetted the Architect. As one lonely, broken soul to another. But I didn't help it hurt anyone. Even if we did wipe out a huge amount of property – including a whole lot of fortifications and planetary defenses. So the massive property damage, yeah. I'll take responsibility for that. I was able to save all the people at those locations, but I couldn't restore the buildings or supplies and I'm sorry about that."

Don closed his eyes for a long moment, getting his thoughts in order.

"Donatello?" Mortu called.

"I'm okay," Don said, half-nodding but not yet opening his eyes. "I'm just...it's a lot."

"I know. Take your time."

Don shook himself and looked up to the Council once more.

"The rest of it...I thought the only way I could protect the Homeworld and the rest of the galaxy was to trick the Architect. To force it to make itself vulnerable so that I could take it down from the inside. In the end, though, it didn't work."

His whole body twitched for a moment and a tear gathered under one eye.

"I...I thought I could stop the Architect and shut it down without hurting it, either. I didn't want that mind to have to die because it was so screwed up. I mean, Krian'daren and Mortu saved me and I wasn't even that terribly off compared to the Architect. I wanted to help it as I'd been helped. But...I couldn't. It fought me to the end. Zayton – Professor Honn'i'kedt has already testified about that part. If...if I could have saved the Architect's life, I would have.

"But...even so, I couldn't risk the Homeworld. That's why I had to destroy it in the end."

Mortu shifted on his disc so he was across from Donatello.

"And that is why you committed the acts of terrorism, endangered the Heart, and risked the sovereignty of the Homeworld?" he asked. "To save that life?"

"And everybody else's," Don answered. "The victims whose minds might be retrieved inside its matrices, and the victims it would have gone after if I didn't stop it, and whatever worlds it eventually chose to take over. I...I didn't want it loose to cause problems, but I couldn't stop it on my own."

"You could have disintegrated it," Mortu said.

"And lost the thousands of lives it had preserved," Don returned, pointing up to the crowd still standing with Krian'daren.

"But you didn't tell me." Mortu's voice had gone decidedly low. "You didn't tell me your plan. You didn't alert the Council so they could work with you on this project. You didn't bring in the Guardians so they could take steps to facilitate your end goal."

"No, I didn't."

"Why?"

Don turned his head away. "You _know_ why."

"Yes," Mortu said. "I do. But they need to hear it."

Don tightened his hands into fists at his side.

"I didn't think it would work. I could have died at any time. My mind could have broken under the strain and I would have been in the same place as everyone else the Architect ever took into itself."

Mortu edged slightly closer. "And?"

Don's head came up and he let out a rush of air in an exasperated snarl.

"And I didn't want to _lose_ anybody else! Okay? It wasn't that I wanted to die. I wanted to come home! But I'm not perfect! I could have miscalculated _anything_. And I didn't want _anybody_ to pay that price but me!"

"And what contingency did you put in place for that?"

Don forced himself calmer. "There was a file of information I'd been compiling all along, from the very beginning. If...if at any point the Architect's systems registered me as a non-ally, that information would have been sent directly to you. And Zayton and Leatherhead and Krian'daren would have been immediately transported to the nearest planet in the Collective."

"What was in the packet?"

"Everything." Don deflated. "Everything I'd learned and everything I'd done and every weakness I'd identified and a few security holes I created that could be exploited. Enough for the Council to be able to take the Architect down – and to know what they would be taking down with it."

"So." Mortu moved back and resumed his previous post beside the Council. "As to the charges of endangering the Heart of the Homeworld, conspiracy to commit war crimes, acts of terrorism, and attempted planetary domination by illegal and dangerous means?"

"I did all of that. I didn't want any harm to come of it, but I did it. And," Don felt his voice break slightly, "I did my best to mitigate it, but I'm still guilty of all of it."

The chamber erupted into shouting.

Don didn't listen to any of it, though he could hear angry defenses of himself and the Council trying to restore order. He just looked at his hands.

_I know I did the right thing. And I did it the wrong way. And I'm sorry. But none of that matters. It shouldn't matter._

_Whatever happens now will be wholly deserved._

_And it was still worth it anyway._

"Please."

The noise continued.

Don raised his voice. "Please."

He could clearly make out Raph bellowing at the top of his lungs.

But Don, though quiet by nature, knew how to make himself heard, especially in a chamber designed to carry sound.

" _Stop_!"

The shocked silence was as jarring as the shouting of before. Don looked resolutely up into the crowd.

"I _will_ accept whatever punishment the Council wishes to levy against me and I don't want _any_ of you to fight over it anymore."

Before anyone could launch another argument, the Council spoke.

"Astrocyte Donatello, you claim to know the laws of the Council. Were you in our position, what punishment would you assign to yourself?"

Don blinked, surprised. "Uh…"

"Answer them, Donatello," Mortu said, his eyes fixed upon Don.

Don considered for a moment.

"The...the normal punishment for these offenses would be banishment and maybe stranding me somewhere I couldn't escape, right?"

"It is commonly used, but that is not the only option," Mortu answered.

Don nodded and raised his gaze to the Council.

"Well...if that's what you decide, I'll accept that. I just...if you don't send me back to the Earth like you did Karai, I would ask the Council to keep wherever I am sent a secret, even from my legal guardians on the Homeworld."

"Why would you ask for that?" the Council wanted to know.

Don quirked a very slight smile as he glanced around the room. "If I have to be exiled, I don't want anyone else dragged down with me. If my family – if _anyone_ who considers themselves my family – knew where I was, they would probably do something stupid to get to me. I don't want to take their homes away from them."

"That is very noble."

"I...I'm not trying to be noble. It's just...you can't punish someone for something they didn't do just like you can't justify actions by intentions. We can't excuse the Architect for what it did just because it was lonely and scared. You can't forgive me for my choices just because I'm sorry about what I did. The choices matter and the actions matter. They matter more than why I did what I did."

He ducked his head.

"Ultimately, I tried to do a good thing, but I also did a terrible thing. I need to pay for that. But _I_ did that. Me. Nobody else." He looked up. " _My_ actions. _My_ punishment. Not theirs."

At the edge of his peripheral vision, Don could see his family looking absolutely stricken.

He gave them a gallows-smile. "I guess we're even, in a weird sort of way, huh?"

Don hadn't _meant_ to lay out in such devastating terms what they had done to him while detailing how he felt about his own actions – that yes, there had been mitigating circumstances but, ultimately, they had still made choices, too – but there was no denying he had.

He drew himself up.

"If banishment isn't possible, or if you're not able to keep the location secret, then I do have an alternative to propose."

The members of the High Council didn't react visibly, but Don could sense they were surprised.

"Please explain."

"Rather than sending me away, sentence me to a lifetime of restitution. I'm going to live a pretty long time by Earth standards. A few hundred years is more than it would take me to rebuild all the stuff I dematerialized around the Heart, but there's more than that I can do in recompense."

"Such as?"

"I can...I can talk to everyone I scared – all the Utrom in the Collective if you want – and apologize. I can focus on protecting the Heart every minute for as long as I live. I can work with the Secrete Obscura and go on the missions that are too dangerous for anyone who isn't expendable. I can...I can make paying for what I've done the work of the rest of my lifetime without reprieve."

There was a beat of quiet.

And then Leatherhead launched himself through the air to land beside Donatello.

"Whatever punishment you give to Donatello, I will voluntarily undergo the same."

Don opened his mouth to respond but the High Council beat him to it.

"What is the meaning of this, Leatherhead?"

Leatherhead looked at Donatello with warm eyes before he put one hand on Don's shoulder and lifted his face to the Council.

"While I did not initiate a partnership with the Architect, from the time that Donatello pulled me into the digital systems of the ship, I, too, was contributing towards the same outcome for which Donatello is now on trial. It is only right that I share in the Council's decision."

"If you would, please!"

Don and Leatherhead turned to see the Fugitoid body airborne and headed in their direction.

Many of those assembled tensed in concern – the platform of the accused was wide but there was a significant gap between it and where the chamber extended down a long distance, and should anyone fall it was certain they would be hurt or worse.

But Zayton was in some of the most reliable hands he knew when Don and Leatherhead leaped together to catch him and bring him safely to stand beside them.

Don glanced up, backtracking Zayton's trajectory, and caught Guardian Owens not quite hiding a smirk. The Guardians arranged behind Bonani were slightly less successful at keeping their faces unreadable. He sent them a mild glare – it was rude to launch people without warning. Bonani shrugged back.

"Thank you," Zayton said to them both. Then he turned his own face to the Council. "Excuse me, but I was also present for these events. More than Donatello himself, I was directly involved in the coding that caused the bulk of the damage to the Homeworld. So I feel I must share in whatever decision the Council makes either for banishment or a lifetime of servitude."

He paused, then added, "And in my case, that would be for the length of time that my body can be serviced, which could, in theory, ensure my enslavement to this punishment for eternity."

"Zayton, I can't let you do this!" Don turned to him, appalled. "You either, Leatherhead!"

"My dear boy." Zayton's voice was warm. "You cannot stop us. We are resolute that we will not abandon you, particularly not when we share in whatever guilt the Council believes you to bear."

"But I don't…"

"We're with you, too."

Four more forms entered the air and dropped down on the increasingly-crowded platform. Don was shaking his head before his brothers and Splinter had even straightened out of their landings.

"No _way_. You guys weren't even part of it!"

"No, we weren't," Leo told him. His gaze was stern and steady. "But wherever you go now, we're not leaving you. We go together or not at all."

"I was about ready to head off into the sunset with the Architect if it meant sticking with you," Mikey said, shrugging. "Besides, I'm sick of being on my own between Hothead and Captain Perfect Leader."

Raph smacked Mikey's head but his eyes were for Don. "You can't think we're gonna let ya go now that we got ya back, Donnie."

"My son." Splinter folded his paws on the head of his walking stick. "You have sacrificed so much for so many people. You built us a home which we did not deserve after we had cast you aside. You served the people of this planet faithfully and defended them from their enemies. And you risked your life and your mind for the sake of the safety of any who might have crossed the Architect's path. Please now allow us to sacrifice for you, that we can be a family again."

"High Council."

They turned to see the group who had accompanied Krian'daren facing the Council, one of the Utrom of their number hovering in front of the crowd to speak.

"Astrocyte Donatello risked his life to save us. He did put the Heart at risk, but in the end he ensured its safety at the cost of his own. He is now offering to give his life once again in order to atone for what he has done. Can we truly take his life from him now when his only crime was to save ours?"

"If so," spoke another whose scars were still blotchy and half-healed, "please let me offer mine in his stead. I have my mind again. I owe those who stand accused more than I can ever repay. I will take his place in banishment or servitude willingly."

"As would I."

"Me, too."

"So will I."

The crowd of those who had been the victims of the Architect spoke, their eyes fixed Donatello who trembled slightly under their devotion. If not for Leatherhead's steadying hand on his shoulder, he wasn't sure he could have withstood it.

"He also saved us," came a new voice. On the other side of the chamber, more Utrom were forming up. "He transported us to safety, risking his whole plan and daring discovery by the Architect rather than endanger our lives. We of the Secrete Obscura are always ready to die in the service of the Heart or the Homeworld or the Council. We would consider it a welcome mission if we can pay Donatello's penance with our own."

Don heaved in a breath. "Please. Don't. Any of you. I mean. Thank you. Seriously. But...I can't let you throw away your lives for my sake."

The Council had been quiet for a time but now spoke.

"In addition to these arguments, others are being sent to us from across the Collective."

The entire upper area of the chamber was normally used to project the images of members of the Council – not all of them; they wouldn't all fit – but now it shimmered and shifted to a series of screens that each showed a different image.

An Utrom who held a picture of the one who had spoken from Krian'daren's group. Running alongside the image was the text of their words, "This is my co-parent and I agree with zyr. We cannot punish Donatello for saving so many lives no matter his methods."

A being who resembled an Earth lamppost displaying a datapad whose words were, "Donatello has clearly endured enough physical suffering for his choices already. Who are we to impose more upon him?"

A tiny child Utrom holding up a sign scrawled in uncertain handwriting declaring "He taught me science and I want to learn more."

Many whose speech was captioned saying "I agree with them" or words to that effect.

Dozens, hundreds, thousands of them – image after image after image.

Donatello felt tears gather and fall and he let them go without shame as he took in the faces and words supporting him from strangers and family alike.

For several long moments there was nothing but silence as everyone took in the sheer amount of supportive response.

And then Donatello shook himself from Leatherhead's grip and stepped forward, giving himself a little room. He looked up one last time and then dropped to his knees and bowed as low as he could.

"Thank you all...so much."

"Donatello."

Don rose in response to the High Council and faced them on legs that shook. "Yes?"

"Do you have anything left you wish to say?"

He gulped down a knot of tears and shook his head. "No. Just...thank you. Everyone. Those who supported me before and those who...have spoken for me now. I'm...I've never been so honored in my entire life."

"Very well. We have completed our own deliberations and are prepared to pass sentence upon you. Mortu, as advocate, is there anything further you wish us to take into account?"

Mortu looked at Donatello with his own emotion in his eyes but faced the Council and gave them a sharp Earth smile.

"Just that you can guess what _I'll_ decide when this is over if you send him away."

"Yes, Mortu, we are _aware_."

Mortu moved to join the group standing on the platform. "Then I am prepared to hear the verdict as well."

"Astrocyte Donatello. As a legal citizen of the Collective you have pled guilty to the charges of aiding and abetting a known murderer, massive property damage to the Homeworld, endangering the Heart of the Homeworld, conspiracy to commit war crimes, acts of terrorism, and attempted planetary domination by illegal and dangerous means."

Every being who breathed seemed to hold their breath all at once.

"We find that you are directly responsible for the events which led up to each of these specific charges. However, we cannot deny that these actions were perpetrated for the overall well-being of the Homeworld and the Collective and its citizens. We denounce your methods, but your results cannot be overlooked.

"Therefore, it is the final ruling of the High Council of the Utrom Collective that, while we find you guilty of all charges, Astrocyte Donatello, we hereby pardon you for all offenses connected to this matter.

"You are free to go, and we thank you for your service."

The entire chamber went delirious with celebration.


	4. Keep

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a super dorky joke towards the end of this chapter, for which I refuse to apologize. Also, I think this chapter has more direct references to (and quotes from) the first TMNT movie than any other. I hope you all approve!
> 
> For those who are curious, Act 8 will have a total of 7 chapters. Chapter 7 may not quite go up at the normal time depending on all-things-holiday-related; if necessary, I'll drop it a few days early. Just as an FYI.
> 
> Anybody got the song yet?
> 
> Enjoy!

In the end, the High Council's pardon resulted in a series of small riots across the Collective. Riots of the happiest sort.

For while there were those who were still angry or anxious because of the nearness of the Heart to disaster, they were vastly outnumbered by those who understood from all the evidence that their once-and-still favorite scientist had acted not maliciously, but with great courage and selflessness. That he had been a hero, again, just as he and his brothers had been in the defeat of Ch'rell.

From individual homes to ships to colonies across the Collective, millions of beings expressed their joy and relief in the ways of their people for the one who had become one of their own.

In Center, the sound of celebratory yelling from the Science Institute could be heard a long distance outside its own walls. Virtually every member of the Institute, from the newest student to the most accomplished Poly-Doctor, had ceased all activity to watch the trial. Many in the wider Collective had not known of Donatello's own defense of the Institute during the symposium, but those within its hallowed walls certainly had - and so they had believed from the first testimonies that their Astrocyte must be exonerated.

The High Council building itself was in no less uproar, but the object of the pandemonium was spared at least some of it; though he could have easily leaped from the platform on which he stood to the sides of the room, the platform was lowered instead to let him off at the bottom.

And in the that crowd gathered around him for the ride, alongside the jubilation, there was also a canny gratitude that this descent would end _without_ an escort off-planet or worse.

Donatello was certain he hadn't had his shoulders clapped or his shell slapped so many times in his whole life - or his body crunched in so many hugs - even counting the party upon the award of his Astrocyte medallion. His brothers and father were there, of course, as well as his other family of Zayton, Leatherhead, and Mortu, but others had poured onto every square inch of the platform before it started to move. Bonani Owens and what seemed like half the Guardian Corps had found or made space to mash together in a joyful crowd.

Donatello managed to look up between hugs and found a flood of Utrom on their discs following the platform's descent - many of whom were Krian'daren's patients still recovering from their own recent encounter with the Architect. When they saw his eyes upon them, they began whistling shrill, bright notes in a form of Utrom applause.

Don had no idea when he had started crying again, and he had no idea how to stop.

And he couldn't have said, if asked - and he wasn't, thank goodness, because all these friends and allies were kind and understanding - if he was relieved for himself, overwhelmed at the outpouring of support that continued to hammer around him, mourning all that had been lost including the Architect itself, or simply staggering along at the end of so much suffering.

He wasn't the only one crying, though, and Don decided that, ultimately, probably everyone was experiencing a similar tangle of emotions - and he was grateful not to be alone in them.

Not to be alone anymore.

He was being half-supported by Leatherhead when he broke into a strange little laugh.

"My brother?" Leatherhead asked.

"It's just...I was with the Architect for so long without anyone else before you came. And then you were there, you and Zayton and Aunt Kria, but it wasn't like this. It was just messages and lines of code for the most part. And now it's over and I'm less alone than I've ever been in my entire life. I mean…"

"We understand, my son," Splinter said. "You have endured an ordeal and it may take you some time yet to fully come to terms with its end."

"And what an end!" Raph was grinning. "All those aliens popping up to tell them how awesome you are." He shook his head. "Who'd'a seen that one coming?"

"Yes, about that."

Mortu shifted in the air until he was across from Professor Honn'i'kedt.

"Something amiss, Mortu?" Zayton asked.

"Given that the date and time of the trial was a complete secret to all parties until today, I find it very hard to believe that such an outpouring of support was truly and genuinely _spontaneous_."

"Oh. Well." Zayton gave a metallic shrug. "It did all work out for the best, you know."

"If you released the date of the trial in advance without the approval of the Council, that is a very serious charge," Guardian Owens said, but his eyes belied a certain degree of amusement.

"I did no such thing." Honn'i'kedt drew himself up. "However…"

Don shook his head with a laugh. "What'd you do, Zayton?"

Zayton turned to Donatello and shrugged again. "I did not release any information that would cause any difficulty for anyone, myself included. However, it is possible that... _someone_ put out a statement through a plurality of digital channels giving advance notice of _a_ trial and of the possible need for support for you...which _could_ have resulted in a collective agreement that testimonies to your value and character might be impactful if delivered as a response by the Collective to the Council itself."

" _You_ set that up?" Mikey pointed at him. "Whoa, dude! Good going!"

"Yes, well, even I could not have anticipated the size of the response," Zayton admitted. "I only wished to ensure there was ample evidence to support the argument that Donatello is a valued member of the Collective's society and should be judged fairly in light of his contributions."

Mortu was practically vibrating in the air.

"You...went behind all our backs...and incited a protest movement!"

"Hardly," Zayton replied. "More a...coordinated political statement."

"Semantics!" Mortu snapped. "Zayton you...you…"

"I _did_ warn you that I would not permit the Council to rule against Donatello." Zayton's voice was cool and utterly nonplussed. "My methods may have been unorthodox, but they were certainly mild compared to some I considered."

Mortu actually reached out with a foreleg and bopped Zayton on the head in a move so reminiscent of Raphael hitting Michelangelo that everyone even vaguely familiar with the pair stared at them before looking back to Mortu and Zayton.

Honn'i'kedt put a metallic hand to his head in surprise.

"You... _dolt_!" Mortu's color was actually changing, growing darker. "You utter _menace_!"

"Mortu." Leatherhead was refraining from laughing only by a monstrous effort. "It is impolite to insult him for implementing a plan that was so successful in an aim we all considered worth considerably more drastic measures."

"Hey!" Don elbowed him. "I told you - no breaking any laws to get me out of this!"

"Technically, we never agreed to that," Zayton told him.

"I am _not_ angry that he defended Donatello so admirably!" Mortu fought the words against a clear and building emotion. "I am angry that he did it before _I_ had the chance to do something similar!"

The entire platform and all the Utrom in the air above burst into laughter.

"I mean it!" Mortu yelled. "I had devised an entire strategy to call upon the Institute to speak on behalf of Donatello, and I was making vague plans to encourage a walkout if necessary. But you...you recruited the entire Collective! Without setting foot outside the medical suite!"

"Unfortunately, my dear friend," the Professor's voice was pure glee, "you are not quite as skilled at manipulating digital forms of communication without leaving any trace as I."

"Not quite as…? Why you!" Mortu actually darted forward in the air as if to wrap himself around Zayton's head, but a swift move from Donatello intercepted him.

Don actually pulled Mortu's disc down and held it firmly against his plastron so he couldn't fly away.

"Thank you, Mortu, for all you did on my behalf. And you, too, Zayton."

Mortu still looked thunderous, but in the face of Don's soft, still-watery smile, he refrained from his obvious desire to respond.

"You know," Don said after a moment, looking at the crowd pressed close around him, "the only reason any of it worked was because I knew you would be here for me. I mean, I didn't expect all of you when I started out." He glanced up at the Architect's victims with a slightly rueful expression.

They waved back cheerfully.

"But...the thing that made me different from the Architect in the end...it was that I carried you in my heart. I carried my family in my heart. All of you."

Leo blinked. "Even…"

"Even when I thought I'd lost you." Don nodded. "And it took a lot of time and a lot of help but, in the end I figured out how to live with your memory. I learned to honor it. And then I found another family." He smiled at them.

Leatherhead rumbled his low, reptilian purr.

"The Architect had lost everything and everyone. But I hadn't. And for as long as I kept your memories inside me, even if you weren't physically there, even if I thought for sure I'd never see any of you again, I wasn't lost. I had your spirits with me the whole time. Guiding me. Keeping me together."

"As you always will," Leatherhead said.

"We're not going anywhere," Raph added.

"In the end," Bonani put in, "the Heart and the Homeworld were saved by your own heart, Don, and all those who have left their mark on it."

"Yes, that." Don smiled at him. "That exactly."

And when the platform reached the bottom, the crowd spilled off it, but didn't really separate.

-==OOO==-

"I gotta hand it to you guys. You really know how to throw a party!"

Bonani grinned at Raphael. "You didn't think we could be cold and serious all the time, did you?"

"I dunno." Raph grinned back. "I mean, Leo does it, so…"

Something wet and cold went _splat_ right on top of Raph's head.

"I do _what_ now, Raph?" Leo called from up above.

Raph wiped the gooey blue substance off and looked up with a snarl. "I'll _show_ you what, you jerk!"

Owens calmly stepped aside as Raph sprang upwards after Leo, who leaped away cackling.

"It seems like we only _just_ got the last residue from something similar cleaned up," Zayton said to Mortu.

Mortu waggled a foreleg in an Utrom shrug. "If it bothers you, why did you invite them to throw a party in the first place? Let alone within your own home?"

"Because Donatello deserves a celebration!"

"And this is what 'celebration' looks like to our Guardians." Mortu gave a hint of an Earth smile. "You know that. You knew that when you asked them. But you also wouldn't be enjoying yourself if you didn't pretend to splutter about it."

"I don't know what you're talking about." But Zayton's voice gave him away; it was far too fond and warm.

They stood companionably side-by-side for several minutes, watching the chaos unfold.

The abandoned apartment which had been too quiet for Mortu to stand only days before was full of life and energy again. From the highest perch in the room - Donatello's porch - Leonardo was flinging custard-balls with deadly accuracy at Raphael. Raph had armed himself with one of the Guardians' failed attempts to make saltwater taffy with Homeworld ingredients and had left a pattern of the morsels stuck to the outside of Donatello's room. All around them, the air was filled with Guardians and Utrom in a no-holds-barred food-fight.

And yet, when every person involved in the chaos was also a highly-skilled, battle-trained warrior, what looked like chaos was also a masterful sort of precision. No matter the substance being flung about or how wildly it was thrown, not so much a drop ever touched the pair of banners that hung on the wall to the side of the door that had been made for Donatello and Leatherhead upon the awards of their doctorates. Similarly, the lab situated against the window-wall beneath Donatello's room remained clean and pristine.

Anything that was _not_ of sentimental or scientific value, however, was very much forfeit.

Raphael gave a sudden battle-cry as he was launched by Leatherhead from the crocodile's own roof towards Leonardo, but one of the airborne Guardians entered his path and interfered with his trajectory just before he reached the position from which Leonardo was assailing all comers.

"You should join them, Mortu," Zayton said after a few moments. "Of us all, the strain upon you has been at least as heavy a burden as theirs. You deserve to 'blow off steam,' I believe is the phrase."

"It is, yes. And thank you for your concern." Mortu kept his eyes on the scene above rather than turning to his friend. "But I have already dealt with my pent-up frustrations, albeit in a different manner. Believe me, would such antics help, I would already be exploiting the obvious gap in Leonardo's defenses."

"And what is that?"

"He has failed to note the blind-spot just to the left of…"

"Not _that_." Zayton shook his head. "How did you relieve your own stress, Mortu?"

Mortu didn't answer.

Zayton looked at him more closely. "I now seem to recall you threatening to scream at Donatello for worrying you. I had thought you were being merely rhetorical."

"Not in the slightest."

"Nope, he's not kidding." Donatello strode up beside the pair. He had evidence of something sticky on one shoulder - for the most part, rather than participating, he had been coordinating the ammunition from the leftover party food.

Zayton turned to him. "He screamed at you? After everything you have been through?"

Don chuckled. "I wouldn't say 'scream.' Maybe 'bellow.' 'Roar' would be a little strong of a word."

"I most _certainly_ roared," Mortu objected.

"Hey, it's not my fault you can only get up so much resonance at your size." Don shrugged. "Trust me. Roaring is what Leatherhead did."

"Am I the only one who did not shout at you out of a respect for your recovery?" Zayton wanted to know.

"Well, Leo didn't yell at me. And neither did Raph, which is even weirder." A shadow stole into Donatello's eyes. He didn't try to hide it from the two who knew him so well - though few others in the room might have been permitted to spot it.

"What aren't you saying?" Mortu was quick to ask.

"It's just...yelling at me was fine. You needed to vent your emotions and your thoughts and I welcomed it. And the air is clear between us now. We can go back to being what we were again."

"Yes, of course," Mortu said.

"And Zayton...I think you didn't need that, but if you do, it's fine. It doesn't bother me."

"I don't require it, no," Zayton said. "It is not my way to lose control of my temperament in that manner, and the firm words I wished you to know were shared with you during our experience together."

"Right." Don drew in a deep breath. "But...even if they didn't yell at me, Leo and Raph still talked to me about it. About what they felt. You know?"

Don's shoulders sank a tiny fraction.

"But Mikey didn't."

"Michelangelo has not spoken to you?" Zayton was surprised.

"Well, he talks to me okay about easy stuff. But he hasn't...he hasn't said a word about what happened. About the other dimension or moving out or coming back or anything like that. He talks about the food he tried today or how Leo and Raph got into a fight. Nothing...nothing real."

"Why do you think that is?" Mortu asked.

Don's eyes went downcast.

"If I had to guess...I'd say he doesn't know how to talk about it. But it's...it's like a big fault in a circuit and I keep waiting for it to make the whole system crash. He's...he's pretending to be normal and then, when he can't keep it up, he avoids me."

"Where is he now?" Zayton looked around. "I have not seen him for some time."

"He left with Master Splinter just after the food-fight started," Don said. "And, trust me, a normal and happy Mikey does _not_ leave just when the chance to throw food at Raph and Leo presents itself."

"You must speak to him, Donatello. If he will not initiate, you must do it for him." Mortu's expression was grave. "The longer this divides you from your brothers, the harder for you to forgive them in return."

"What makes you think I haven't forgiven them? I did that forever ago."

Mortu gestured with a foreleg. "You still do not wear their mask. You refused it just this morning."

"Because I thought I was looking at banishment or worse. You know that."

"And you could have taken it back in the hours since then, but you have not." Mortu shifted in the air to face Donatello squarely. "Donatello...you are my family. I know your heart. And what you feel is yours alone. I would not question or denigrate it. But I urge you to face this. Before it is too late."

"Too late for what?"

Mortu exchanged a glance with Zayton.

Don sighed. "Okay. You're right. I'll go." He turned to leave, but looked back over his shoulder. "Hold the fort while I'm gone, okay? And try to keep the stains off the ceiling. I _hate_ cleaning up there."

Mortu made an Earth smile. "Understood."

Donatello slipped through the crowd and the chaos to the door and vanished.

After a few moments, Zayton looked at Mortu. "I would have expected someone to follow him."

"And I would expect everyone in this room to understand the value of letting him have a moment alone. Especially after today." Mortu waggled a foreleg. "Besides, he is not alone. He said so himself. We are all with him even now."

"Yes." Zayton nodded. "That's very true. I am glad of it."

"As am I." Mortu gazed at the door, worried. "As am I."

-==OOO==-

Donatello didn't need to search for long to find where Michelangelo and Splinter had gone. If Mikey had left on his own, he might have had to get creative in locating him - of all of them, Mikey could disappear into the oddest of places sometimes.

Don remembered being much younger and having to look for two hours with Leo and Raph to find him during a game of hide-and-seek, only to discover that Mikey had somehow wedged himself into a ceiling fan that was only barely bigger around than his shell at the time.

But Mikey was with Splinter now, and Donatello had a good feeling that his Sensei had guessed he might come following them, and therefore he was confident that Splinter would not have made them hard to find. So Don headed for the quietest place he could think of that was close enough nearby to satisfy everyone's instinctive need to stay together.

He found them perched on the sloped roof of the dormitory building looking out at the starry night sky. Don popped up the access hatch in time to see Splinter rise and leave Michelangelo's side. He padded to the hatch and gave Don only a nod before disappearing back down into the building.

Mikey hadn't turned around.

Don made his way over and sat beside him. The dormitory was beehive shaped, so the roof was rounded and slanted, but the pitch was shallow enough that he could sit comfortably without having to waste too much attention on maintaining his balance.

"How're you doing?" he asked.

"Fine," Mikey said.

Don gave him a moment before trying again. "Nice night."

"Mm-hmm."

"You waiting on a pizza or what?"

"Do they even sell pizza here?" Mikey asked, but he was clearly distracted.

"What _they_ call pizza? Yes. What _we_ would call pizza? Only if you _really_ like your veggies and you don't try what they call 'sausage' but is really a form of condensed mushroom."

Mikey snorted. "So, Raph's out of luck, then."

"Yeah."

Don looked up into the stars. He knew a lot of them by name now, more than he'd ever known back on Earth, but here he had good reason to learn the individual stars rather than constellations. He'd made it a habit to learn the name for the home planet and system and star of every one of his students and assistants at the Institute. It had always made the sky over the Homeworld seem more friendly - the stars were all a part of his new home.

But even they couldn't fill in the strange gulf that sat between him and Michelangelo.

Don sighed. "Mikey, we gotta stop this."

"Stop what?"

"Stop pretending we don't have to talk about it."

"Talk about what?"

" _Mikey_!" Don was losing patience. "Look, if you're mad at me or if you're mad at yourself, you have to deal with this. _We_ have to deal with this. And I don't care if you want to yell at me or punch me. But we can't keep doing this."

Finally Michelangelo looked over. "Why not? What's wrong with leaving the past in the past?"

"Because that past is plopped all over us right now."

"That's just your weird alien food." He rubbed at the goop on Don's shoulder and wiped it on the rooftop.

"Mikey!"

" _What_?" Mikey's face contorted and Don could see the emotions chasing each other across it in the light of Center and the stars above. "You want me to pretend I don't hate myself for what I did? I can't! You want me to pretend I wasn't scared to death for you when we found you? I was! You want me to pretend I'm okay? I'm _not_!"

"No, Mikey." Don put a hand on his shoulder. "I want you to _stop_ pretending altogether."

"But that's what I do. I pretend. I make a joke and laugh it off and it all goes back to normal." He squeezed his eyes shut. "Why can't it just be normal again?"

"I don't really know what you must be feeling," Don said after a moment. "But you should let yourself feel it."

"I don't know _what_ I feel!" Mikey scraped a hand across his beak. "Sometimes I'm really mad at you for giving up on us in Usagi's world, but that's stupid because, hey, it's not like we gave you a good reason to keep trying. Mostly I'm really, really glad you're okay and you're back. But sometimes I'm really, really scared."

Don let the rest of it pass and focused on the one that seemed most important to his brother. "Scared why?"

"Because we lost you again!" Mikey's voice went raw and thick. "And not for the first time, but definitely the worst time! The Outbreak Virus was bad, but not like this. That creepy dude in the Underground City grabbed you, but that was short, at least. The Triceratons taking you and brain-frying you, that _stank_ , dude. But...I mean, this was worse than when we lost Splinter."

"Which time?" Don asked. "To the Utrom or to Viral?"

"Either!" He heaved in a breath. "You were _gone_. And we couldn't find you. We didn't even know how to get to you. We didn't know if we'd ever see you again."

Don shifted to put an arm around Mikey, but Mikey shoved it away.

"And the worst part is that it was our own fault! You wouldn't have left except for us! If I hadn't forgotten…"

"You know why that happened," Don said with as much gentleness as he could.

"Doesn't mean it isn't still our fault, dude," Mikey returned. "And yeah, you're here, but…"

"But you're scared I'll leave again someday."

"I'm scared I'll _make_ you leave again someday."

Don held still for a moment. When he spoke, he kept his words as honest as he could make them.

" _You_ didn't make me leave Usagi's world, Mikey. No matter what you think you did or didn't do. _I_ made that choice. Just like I made the choice to come to the Homeworld with Zayton and Leatherhead. You can't blame yourself for the choices I make."

Mikey huffed a broken laugh. "Why not? Leo does it all the time."

Don felt himself smiling. "And since when do you actually follow Leo's example?"

"Almost never."

"Well, don't start now and you'll be fine."

Mikey snorted. "Not sure I'll _ever_ be fine, bro."

"You will." Don scooted closer to him and this time got his arm up around his shell. "You might need some help with it. I sure did, when I first got here. It took rhythms with Aunt Kria to make any progress. Maybe you should talk to her, or to Leatherhead's doctor. If it'll help you, I'll even go with you until you get used to it."

Mikey shook his head. "No thanks. I mean, yeah, we all maybe could get our heads shrunk, but that's not going to fix this."

"Then what is?"

"Just...don't leave us again, okay?" Mikey looked up at him with watery eyes. "Even if we're being stupid. Don't leave us ever again."

"Oh, Mikey." Don pulled him closer and tucked their heads together. "Even if I'm not physically beside you every day, I'll never really leave you. That's what got me through it all. You were with me the whole time."

"Yeah, but I want to be _there_ , not just in your head." He sighed. "I guess you can't promise not ever to go someplace without me but...can I promise never to forget you again? And that I will try not to leave you? If we both promise, it's gotta come true, right?"

Don huffed a laugh. "Sure."

"Okay. Then I, Michelangelo T Hamato, hereby promise never to forget about you, Donatello, and never to abandon you again."

Don couldn't help but start giggling. "Michelangelo 'T' Hamato?"

"Yeah! 'T' for 'Turtle,' dude!"

"You're such a goofball." Don held him tighter. "Don't ever change, okay? No matter what."

"I can't. We promised. Remember?"

Don thought about that promise, and about telling Usagi about it back when he was trying to fit into a feudal world where he didn't belong. "Yeah. I remember."

Mikey went quiet for a moment. When he spoke again, his voice was low. "Are we...still brothers?"

Don blinked.

Mikey spoke more urgently. "Because you...you have a different family now. And you haven't taken back the Outcast vow. Or your mask. So...technically, does that mean you're not my brother?"

"I _am_ your brother, Mikey, no matter what." Don said. And he meant it.

"But you _do_ have another family."

Don swallowed. "Yes. But I also have the same family. I'm not...I'm not any less your brother just because of what else I have."

Mikey's words took on a desperate air. "Then why haven't you taken back the vow? Why won't you wear our mask? Raph and Leo and Master Splinter are worried about it, too."

"I thought I was going to be found guilty and banished. I...I didn't want to shame our Clan."

Mikey reared back and glared at him. "That's a lame excuse, dude."

"Maybe. But it's still true. I didn't want anyone to get pulled down with me if the Council found me guilty."

"Then why not do it now?"

"Because…" Don let out a breath. "Because there's something I need to deal with first."

"And what is that, my son?"

Don and Mikey both turned in surprise to see Splinter as well as Leonardo and Raphael standing in the shadows at the edge of the building.

"How long have you been listening?" Mikey asked, feeling rather exposed and embarrassed - and not just for not hearing them sneaking up.

"Long enough, bro," Leo said. His answer was for Mikey but his eyes fell on Don. "Long enough."

"I believe," Splinter said, "the time has come for some truth."

But Don rose and faced him. Then he bowed.

"I beg you to forgive me, Sensei, but I would like to postpone this discussion until dawn."

Splinter's whiskers twitched, his only external sign of surprise or displeasure. "May I ask why, Donatello?"

Don remained still, head and shoulders bent down. "To give me time to reflect. Maybe to meditate."

Splinter was clearly not happy with the request, but he dipped his head. "Very well. I will agree to this."

Don straightened out of the bow. "Thank you, Master. I'll go now and, uh, clear out the party. I'll meet you all up here at dawn, okay?"

"As you wish, my son."

Don smiled a little nervously and practically bolted for the hatch back into the building.

"Why's he so squirrelly about it?" Raph asked. "Is he gonna not take back the Outcast oath?"

"He'd have told us by now if he was going to outright refuse," Leo argued. "I don't know what he's thinking, but I don't think it's that."

"Then why wait? What's the problem?" Mikey rose and joined the rest.

Splinter shook his head. "My sons. We must trust in Donatello. He does things in his own way and in his own time, but he always has reasons for the choices he makes. Reasons which, as today has shown, are almost always wise."

But the roof felt colder with the uncertainty that had settled upon it.

-==OOO==-

When Don re-entered the apartment, he found that the chaos of the food-fight had been replaced with a different sort of chaos: those who had been gleefully causing the mess were now industriously cleaning it up.

Don spotted Mortu hovering high in the air giving orders and smirked.

_Of course Mortu won't let it end the way it did before. He half-lives here now, too. I bet he pulled rank on them. That would have been worth seeing._

But on the other hand, Don was just as glad he'd missed it. He was suddenly feeling like he wanted to put his shell to the wall and pass unnoticed for a while.

_Good thing I'm a ninja._

It took Don twice as long to get to his room as it would have walking in the open, but he managed it without, he hoped, being seen. Or, if he had been spotted - the Guardians were all experts at stealth, too, and had taught him a lot of tricks themselves - at least no one said anything. Don pushed into his room and shut the door, letting out a huge, heavy breath.

_It's been a long time since last I was in here._

In fact, Don had not set foot in his own room since departing the Homeworld to find the Architect the first time. He hadn't come here personally to retrieve the Fangs of the Dragon and the teleportal when he'd stolen them - he had transported them the same way he did Master Splinter somewhat later. He had wanted to - shell, he had wanted to be here so badly some days - but he hadn't dared. It would have been too easy to curl up in his safe space.

Too easy to let his guard down and not be able to get it back up in time.

Don moved through the room, carefully touching his things as he went to remind himself that they were here and they were real. He did not stop at the shrine for Hamato Yoshi, but he brushed a finger across the wood and let the familiar scent of the incense within fill him up. He touched his books, the pictures and reminders displayed on his shelves, the gadgets he had decided weren't worth bringing on his dangerous trip. Finally he faced his bed, wrinkled as though an Utrom disc had been planted upon its blankets for a time.

_Oh Mortu. I'm still so sorry._

Then Donatello opened the door in his mind and began pulling things out of the dimensional fold where they had resided for so long. Most of what was there that he bothered to retrieve was some combination of gear and gadgets which he returned to the shelves where they belonged. The portal stick he put back under the bed along with Byakko after a moment.

_It's weird not seeing Inazuma and Banrai in the drawer with it, though. But I gave those back to Mikey and Raph and they're still holding onto them. And Leo's still got Kiryoku. I wonder if I should teach them how to put them into a dimensional pocket themselves for safe-keeping._

_I wonder if I could stand to teach them at all._

That thought brought him up short just as his hand closed on his own bo within the dimensional fold - Mikey had carried it into the final battle with the Architect, but had returned it to Don during an awkward shift sitting with him while the breathing tube was still in, and Don had simply put it away as soon as his energy was restored enough to support the effort.

He looked at the bo.

_I think Mikey and I are okay again. As okay as we'll be any time soon, I guess. But this is the whole problem, isn't it? Going back to the bo when I lost the ability to use Byakko was like a demotion._

_Going back to being part of the Hamato Clan when I've been Outcast...it isn't a demotion, not at all...but…_

_How can I ever go back to being what I was?_

_How can I be Hamato when I'm so much else, too?_

He knew, of course he knew, that any choice he made would be respected. That Don could refuse to take back his mask and the Clan - and his original family, while probably broken-hearted, would let him. That he could claim, rightly, that he had another family now and that he didn't want to rejoin the Clan if it meant he couldn't also have Mortu and Leatherhead and Zayton.

But Clan had never been either-or when it came to the turtles' adopted family. April and Casey were not officially Hamato Clan, but they were Clan in every other way, including in how even Splinter felt about them. The lack of formal recognition and initiation had never mattered.

_So that's not really a good reason, is it?_

Don resolutely set his bo in its usual spot leaning on the wall and sat on his bed, never more grateful for the comforting warming of its softness.

_Come on. No more excuses. Why am I hesitating in taking them back?_

Something wiggled in the back of his heart, and he ignored it. Looking there, looking at the shadows that taunted from within, only madness waited and he knew it. He had to look forward. He had to consider his next moves, not the ones he had already made. The past he would keep buried within, held back by chains of whatever resilience he could forge.

At least for now; even he knew, when he dared, that this wouldn't last forever, couldn't last forever. But it could last for a little while, and so he pushed onward.

_What am I afraid of right now?_

The answer was obvious. And just as painful.

_I have forgiven them. I am getting past it. I did accept their loss and mourn it and move on and let go of my anger and all the rest of it._

_But that doesn't mean I am ready to trust them not to do it again._

_And…_

_Even if I can trust that they wouldn't hurt me again...even if I do that…_

_Raph said they wanted to make me chunin._

_And I don't want to be._

_Can I be Hamato and still be myself? Can I live the life I've chosen without necessarily leading or following but just being? Do I even fit in a Clan anymore?_

And then Don realized there was something he hadn't put away, something he'd probably subconsciously kept out of the drawer because it sat at the root of this question. Something which chose that moment to roll slightly across the bed to bump into his shell.

The sphere from Hamato Yoshi.

Don lifted it into his fingers and felt it warm at his touch.

And he huffed in surrender.

_Master Yoshi himself told me I am a Hamato. That I am of his Clan no matter what._

_It would be pretty rude not to follow through with it, huh?_

Don curled the sphere to his chest and tucked his feet up into the bed, tipping into it with a sigh. The bed on the Architect's ship had been of Utrom make, but it wasn't warm and it didn't give as much support around his shell. The bed in the healing suite had been fine, even a little warm, but it had had so many sensors it couldn't be quite as spongy. And, besides - this bed was _his_.

After a world of deception and all things temporary, this was _real_.

Donatello pulled his blankets over himself and tucked his chin against his plastron, the sphere reassuringly close to his heart. It wasn't overly late in the evening and he wasn't exactly sleepy, but it had been a very, very long day and he was ready to shut everything out for a while.

_Worst case scenario is I end up back where I started here. But this time I wouldn't even be alone. I wouldn't be without the ability to get through it. I wouldn't be without everything I've learned. If things fell apart, I'd still have everything I've become._

_After all, I am a Hamato. And an Astrocyte. And just plain Donatello._

_And I'll get through. No matter what. I've come this far with so much less._

_I am myself. And even if everything goes wrong, I will still be myself. I will still have myself for my own company and my own convictions to hold me up._

_So in the end...whatever happens...I'm going to be okay._

-==OOO==-

Donatello rose about an hour before dawn. He slipped his bo into its place at his shell and outfitted his belt as he always had - both on Earth and on the Homeworld - with all the gear he might need and a bunch he almost certainly wouldn't. He added the communicator he had left in the dimensional fold the entire time he'd been with the Architect, making a mental note to erase however-many messages would have built up on it during his absence.

When he walked out of his room into the apartment he had shared for so long, it was as if nothing had changed from rhythms before.

The apartment was clean, almost too clean, and every surface gleamed from recent scrubbing. Pre-dawn was too dark to illuminate the room with natural light, and it took Don a moment to realize that the lights in the apartment were all glowing.

Then the scent of coffee reached him.

Don smiled and headed downstairs.

"Good morning, Donatello," Leatherhead said, looking up from the table and his own enormous mug of coffee.

"I do hope you slept well," Zayton said. He puttered around the kitchen pouring a mug for Don. "We did not realize we had failed to refresh your bedding until after you had retired for the night. Was it too dusty or stale?"

"No, it was fine," Don said. He slid into his usual seat at the table and looked at each of them. "Did you guys sleep at all?"

"Some more than others," Mortu said, flicking an Earth smile at Don. "The Guardians were very much willing to do their part to clean up the mess they created, of course, but some of us have more exacting standards than others."

Leatherhead snorted. "It was my belief that perfect cleanliness was _not_ a necessary goal to force our friends to reach, but I was outvoted. So I, at least, have slept adequately."

"To be fair," Zayton said, handing Don his coffee, "I do not require sleep. So I was easily able to supervise their efforts."

"I'm gonna have to send the entire Guardian Corps an apology. And a ton of coffee." Don inhaled the scent of his own before gulping at it - it was not too hot and _perfect_.

"Do not concern yourself." Mortu waved a foreleg. "The Guardians have always reacted to times of profound stress with outbursts of manic and usually-childish energy, as in the first party they threw for you. It is their means of regaining emotional balance after a difficult experience. That they, ahem, practiced this ritual in our space was welcome, but it was still their responsibility to clean up after themselves."

"They didn't last time," Don said.

"They were rather less thorough in creating a _horrific_ mess last time," Zayton said. "We recorded the visual evidence of what you missed when you went outside, my boy. I believe the word used by Bonani to describe it was 'epic.' I heartily agree."

"It was _worse_?" Don stared at them, then laughed. "Then I guess I'm glad they cleaned up!"

"Indeed." Leatherhead sipped at his own coffee, then set it down. "Donatello, your brothers came to speak to us last night about your intent to tell them your decision at dawn today about whether you wish to reinstate your place in their Clan."

Don nodded. "Yeah. I just...I needed to get something straight in my head first, I guess." He looked around at them. "Is that why you're all up so early?"

"It is."

"We want you to know that, no matter your decision, it does not change this," Mortu said, gesturing at the four gathered around the table. "Hamato Donatello or Astrocyte Donatello, you are still _our_ Donatello."

Don smiled, warmth in his chest. "I was thinking something kinda similar last night, actually."

Leatherhead leaned across the table to rest a large hand on Donatello's forearm. "My brother." He smiled a bit. "You are my brother even if you rejoin your Clan, too. And whatever you choose, we will respect it. But...it is my hope you will choose whatever makes you the happiest in the end."

"We didn't go to all this trouble to save the Homeworld, and you, just to see you return to misery," Zayton put in. "My anger at your family has abated for the most part, but my primary concern is still your well-being, Donatello, as I believe it always shall be."

Don nodded. "Thank you. All of you. Seriously. I don't...I don't know how I ever could have gotten this far without you. As for where we'll end up, well, who really knows?"

He smiled.

"And I know you're _probably_ not worried about this, but just in case you are - Hamato or not, nothing between us changes for me, either. Okay? You're still my family, too. Not instead of them, not anymore. Just, in addition."

And Don was pretty sure he didn't imagine tension sliding out of Leatherhead's shoulders or the set of Mortu's eyes.

"Well, now that that's settled," Professor Honn'i'kedt's voice went very bright and happy, "let's make sure we send Donatello to his discussion with an appropriate breakfast to sustain him."

The Fugitoid walked back to the kitchen and swept a platter off the counter. He presented it with some ceremony to the table, revealing a very accurate facsimile of pancakes from Earth.

Don looked at them, mentally calculated the ingredients available on the Homeworld and the time it would have taken Zayton to prepare them, and burst out laughing.

"If this is what you do in your spare time, we need to get you back into the lab - stat!"

Leatherhead roared a laugh of his own and those with coffee happily clinked their mugs together in a toast.

-==OOO==-

When the first rays of dawn hit the top of the building, Donatello emerged from the access hatch to find Master Splinter with Leonardo, Raphael, and Michelangelo already waiting for him.

Don greeted them with a bow.

"My son," Splinter said. He reached into his robes and pulled out the purple mask once more. He held it out in hands that were perfectly still, though there was a question in his eyes.

"Yes, Sensei?"

"I ask you now, Donatello, to accept this from me. To be, once again and forevermore, Hamato Donatello. You are my son and student even if you cannot permit yourself to rejoin the Clan which has harmed you so egregiously. But...it is my hope that you will again accept and embrace your place within our family."

Don crossed to meet him and sank to his knees.

"Honored Master, it was never my true wish to leave the Clan, though circumstances forced me to do otherwise. I did not wish to dishonor the name of our family and I did not want my sins to be shared with those who were innocent."

He could see Leo open his mouth only to swallow his words at the last moment.

Don took a deep breath.

"I am no longer the son you remember, Sensei. I have changed in many ways. And yet, I think my heart is the same."

He looked up at his father and felt tears rise, tears that were mirrored in Splinter's own eyes.

"If you wish to bestow upon me the honor of reclaiming my place as Hamato Donatello, son of Hamato Splinter, student and grandson of Hamato Yoshi, it would be my honor to accept it."

Splinter's fingers trembled very slightly as he tied the purple bandana back where it had always belonged.

"Then you are once again, as you always were, Hamato Donatello. Rise, my son."

Don stood up and was immediately engulfed in a massive five-way hug. He wanted to talk about what Raph had said - that he might be named chunin - and he wanted to start figuring out what would come next for all of them. But none of that was as important as this.

Finally, after so long, Don had fully come home.

Of course, eventually Michelangelo had to spoil the moment. "So, grandson, huh?"

Don considered the vision he had had, and the person he had met, as well as the sphere whose contents very much deserved to be shared with everyone who stood as the Clan of Hamato Yoshi.

"Hey, Master Yoshi said it, not me."

Don almost giggled at their sudden, surprised silence.

"Come on. I've got a _lot_ to tell you."

-==OOO==-

Ten days later, Leo opened his eyes before Raph could get close enough to jolt him out of meditation any other way. "Need something?" he asked with an arched eye-ridge

"Yeah," Raph said, trying to keep his expression casual and not like he had been about to do something awful to his brother. "You seen the brainiac any today?"

Leo had to think. "Not since he came over after breakfast, I guess."

"Well, it's almost lunchtime and he ain't checked in since."

"Did you talk to Master Splinter?"

"Sensei's off with the Guardians again. But he didn't say anything about Don joining them, either."

Leo rose. "Don's been gone a lot lately, hasn't he?"

"Yeah. Too much, if you ask me."

Leo nodded. "You're right. Come on."

They found Mikey on their couch in front of the main screen playing something that looked like a cross between Tetris and a first-person shooter.

"Mikey?" Leo tried to get his attention.

"Agh! Give me a minute! I just...gotta…"

"It's about Don," Leo said.

"Where'd he go this time?" Raph asked.

"No idea." Michelangelo shrugged without looking up from his game. "Just said he had something to do."

"And he didn't tell you what it was or where?" Leo pressed.

"Well, maybe he did. I wasn't really listening." Mikey had the grace to look abashed. "But...he gave me this vid game! And it's awesome!"

Raph jabbed him with a finger. "Focus, doofus!"

Leo frowned at him. "I'd start to wonder if he was avoiding us, except the Professor and Leatherhead won't tell us where he's been going, either."

Mikey tipped his head to one side and paused the game. "Maybe he's avoiding everybody."

"Why would he need to do that?" Raph wanted to know.

"Well, I mean." Mikey looked between his brothers. "If I had to put my brain into that creepy computer and then pretend to attack the only home I had left after I had to abandon the first one, and then I went on trial and all these people from all over started standing up for me, and then I was trying to pretend like all of it never happened…" He spread his hands. "I mean, _I'd_ go nuts. He can't even step outside without drawing a crowd."

"Two trials," Raph corrected him. "Just that the one was all secret 'cause of the Stem." He considered punching something. Of course the High Council had found in Donatello's favor once more, but that had been a stressful day nonetheless - for all of them.

"Yeah, and they had to practically transmat him over there or it _wouldn't_ have been so secret," Mikey said.

"But that's all over now, and he still keeps leaving," Leo said. "Wouldn't the added attention make him want to stay here with us?"

"Unless that's the whole problem."

Leo and Mikey turned to Raph, who had shifted and was facing away.

"What is it, Raph?" Leo asked.

"Maybe Don's been avoiding everybody who matters because he wants to stay here. On the Homeworld. And not come back to New York with us."

"He said he would go back," Mikey argued. "He told April and Casey he'd come back to talk to them when Casey's mom's treatments were done."

"April said Don promised to _get in touch_ with them," Leo clarified. "She didn't say Don had agreed to move back to the Earth permanently."

"And what if he doesn't wanna go?" Raph looked at Leo, his eyes troubled. "What if he wants to live here instead? What then? Do we stay with 'im? Do we leave 'im here and go back?"

Leo closed his eyes.

"Honestly...I have no idea."

"Well _I'm_ not leaving him!"

Leo opened his eyes in surprise - Michelangelo was up and his hands were balled into fists in front of his plastron.

"Mikey…" he began.

"No! No _way_ am I leaving Donnie behind!" Mikey rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet. "He took back his mask. He forgave us. We _gotta_ be brothers again and I _promised_ him I'd never forget him or abandon him ever again. If Don stays, I'm staying too!"

Raph put a hand on Mikey's shoulder. "Easy, bro. Nobody's leavin' Donnie behind."

Leo felt the need to object. "But…"

Raph's gaze shifted to Leo, and it was cool and flinty. "I made Don a promise too, Leo. Swore it on my honor and everything. You can do what you want, but I ain't going back to New York without 'im."

Leonardo felt a weight lift off his shoulders and he visibly deflated, letting out a long breath in relief.

"I didn't make him a specific promise yet, but I wasn't going to abandon him, either. I just didn't know what to do if you two really wanted to go back to New York." He smiled. "I guess we're all in agreement, then. Where Don goes, we go."

"And if Don stays, we stay." Mikey nodded.

"He ain't gonna like this." Raph smirked. "He's gonna tell us we should do our own thing and not worry about him. It ain't like he'd be alone here even if we did go back. He's gonna be mad if he thinks we're stayin' on the Homeworld just for his sake."

"You're right," Leo said. "He will be." He quirked an eye-ridge. "Unless…"

"Unless what?" Mikey wanted to know.

"Got an idea, Fearless?" Raph asked.

"Yes," Leo nodded. "I think I do. Come on. We've got to go see a man about a plan."

"A canal; Panama!" Mikey yelled.

Raph and Leo looked at him with totally blank expressions.

Mikey huffed. "Oh, go read a book, will ya?"

That set them off laughing even as they headed out.

-==OOO==-

When Don knocked on their door later, whistling, his brothers were waiting for him with matching grins.

Don froze as soon as he was across the threshold. "Uh...hi? What's up?"

"We went to speak to Mortu today," Leo said. "We asked him to see about getting us all jobs here on the Homeworld."

Don opened his mouth. Closed it. Shook his head. "Um. Wait, what? Why?"

"Because if you ain't leavin', neither are we. And we can't do the science stuff, but we can sure as shell sign up to be Guardians and make sure you're safe to do your thing," Raph said.

"Yeah!" Mikey's face was alight. "This way you don't have to worry about choosing between coming home with us or staying here. We'll _all_ stay here!"

Don shook his head. "Guys." He chuckled. "You shouldn't have."

"We wanted to," Leo stepped forward. "Donnie. We _wanted_ to do this. Not just for you. For all of us. So we can have a future together."

"Well," Don said, a faint smile tugging at the edges of his mouth, "I hope you haven't completely written off the Earth."

"How come?" Raph asked.

"Because it's time to go back."


	5. Beckoning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a little shocking to me that I've only two weeks left of this. I don't think I've entirely absorbed that this entire series is almost over. Eesh. I think I might cry myself when I post the last chapter. This isn't the first year-long event I've done, of course, but they're all so dear.
> 
> And doubly, triply, quadruply because of all of you.
> 
> I'll be honest – this chapter and the next two have been reshaped because of all the amazing feedback and commentary from you, and all my fun exchanges with you. This story is actually an entire chapter longer now than it was when I finished it a year ago, and these last 3 are longer by several thousand words, and it is completely better. Because of you, and what you have added to it, and what you have given to me.
> 
> So I am very much in your debt, all of you. You have all my thanks.
> 
> Enjoy!

Donatello looked at the three faces around him, wide-eyed and slack in surprise. He laughed and headed into the room, grabbing Leo's arm to pull him along.

Raph recovered first. "Whaddaya mean it's time to go back?"

"Well, that's a little bit of an exaggeration because current calculations suggest we have another two rhythms before we're really expected, but it's always good to be prepared for all possible eventualities."

Leo blinked at him. "Don. Start over."

Don nodded and sat at one end of the couch; his brothers perched around him in a formation that was all too familiar. Even here on another planet, they still sat piled on couches in order, whether in Don's own home with Honn'i'kedt and Leatherhead, or in this apartment the three of them were sharing with Splinter a few buildings over.

It wasn't that one turtle always sat next to another – in that, they were almost always fluid and shifting. Rather, it had to do with their orientation to their surroundings. If Leo couldn't be in 'front' (and there wasn't much of a 'front' on a couch) he chose to take whatever position was most vulnerable or else gave him the best angle for watching doors or windows for trouble. If there was an obvious second-most defensive spot, Raph settled there. Mikey tended to place himself out of immediate reach of whoever he had been seriously irritating lately.

Don had never really paid much attention to where that left him, because he knew he was within the circle of protection of his family and he would watch their shells as they watched his. But after so long, it felt just as miraculous to settle amidst them again as it had since he'd woken up after destroying the Architect.

"Okay, it's like this."

Don wondered briefly if he would ever get tired of being able to talk to his brothers – just talk to them, as if they had always been there and would always be there. As if nothing had changed.

"When I originally left the Earth with Zayton and Leatherhead, I told Casey and April I would check in with them right around the time Casey's mom had finished her first round of treatments, and while I can do it from here, it's much easier to connect with them planetside. Time moves differently away from the Earth thanks to using the teleportal to cover so much distance, but we're closing in on the last couple of rhythms here before that time is up."

"It's really only been a few months on Earth but you've been here, like, two years?" Mikey asked.

"Yup. I can show you the equation if you want," Don offered.

"No thanks, dude."

Don paused for a moment of doubt.

Raph leaned towards him. "And? Don't leave us hanging!"

"Okay. Well." Don let out a breath. "Besides keeping that promise to Casey and April and getting back to see them, especially if, uh, things aren't going well, I can tell you guys are humoring me being here. But you didn't exactly plan to move in. If we were going to stay here long-term, you could probably use some stuff."

Leo looked at him curiously. " _If_ we're going to stay here long-term?"

"Well, that's something we have to talk about. I mean, just because _I've_ built something here doesn't mean we all want to spend the rest of our lives here."

Raph held up a hand. "Do you?"

"Do I what?"

"Want to spend the rest of your life here? Instead of bein' on Earth?"

Don met his brother's eyes with a mix of fearfulness and honesty. "I...I want both. Not simultaneously, but...I want to be able to come back here and teach and learn and study. But I also want to be able to run on the rooftops along Central Park and watch terrible sports with Casey and protect New York. I want both."

"Okay, Don," Leo said, nodding and beginning to smile. "That sounds fair to me."

"Wouldn't be too bad bein' able to get out of the city and go somewhere we can be out in the open – like we did in the future," Raph added.

"But we could still go get real pizza. Pizza is good." Mikey shut his eyes and smiled at the memory.

A knot in Don's chest loosened at their easy acceptance.

"Anyway," he said, trying to get them back on track, "the thing is that there's no reason we can't legitimately do both. Especially with the adjustments Zayton and I have made to the teleportal system, the time differential will be decreased, too. Somewhat less time will always pass on the Earth than here, but...I don't think that's a terrible thing."

"How come?" Raph asked.

"We're...we're gonna live a lot longer than our human friends," Don said. "Leaving them for a day at a time on Earth but being able to get rhythms worth of work done here...that would probably be good."

Don shook himself before he could dwell on that too much.

"Either way, we always have the choice to come back here or not, either all of us or just me if that's what we decide to do. But I still think we should go back to the Earth now rather than later."

Mikey and Raph were both winding up to argue about Don coming back on his own but Leo cut them off with a gesture. "Why?"

"Because Leatherhead's parents have finally found a viable way to cure cancer in humans."

Silence. And three dropped jaws.

Then, "They did _what_?" Mikey squealed.

"Yup." Don nodded. "When we first arrived, Leatherhead talked to his parents about the experimental drugs Casey's mom was taking to try to cure her. The Utrom have been working on various remedies for human diseases for a long time – even though not human themselves, they wanted to help and, also, they had a lot of time to hang out waiting for our technology to get to a level they could use, and they needed to get enough capital to build their teleportal to get home anyway.

"Once they returned here, though, the project became more of a hobby than a study since there was so much else to do. Then Leatherhead came home and his parents decided to go back to their work on the subject between their other projects. It wasn't just a matter of finding a cure, however, but also of finding a cure that could be reproduced on Earth without completely rewriting human understanding of organic chemistry. The experimental treatment being used on Casey's mom provided them with the perfect bridge from the Earth to their own work.

"Apparently, they almost perfected the cure while I was with the Architect. Since I've been back, they've mostly been finalizing it, running it through the last tests, and working to get the High Council to approve sending the treatment back to the Earth."

Mikey frowned suddenly.

"Look, curing cancer is awesome and all, it _is_ , _seriously_ , but we can't just bring the cure back for one person, can we? I mean, I like Casey and I like his mom, but we can't leave so many other people without it. It wouldn't be right."

Don smiled at him. "You're right. And that's what I've been doing the last couple of days – preparing a plan to get this cure out and available worldwide. It's going to take a massive, coordinated effort to publicize the findings and build up a production and distribution network."

"Uh, Donnie, I ain't knockin' your looks, but you can't exactly go on Oprah," Raph said.

"Nope. I can't. But the Utrom can."

Leo blinked. "Of course. Because the Utrom all had Earth identities."

"They had _lots_ of identities," Don corrected. "Both over the years and concurrently. Between even just a few members of the original stranded party of Utrom, there are several dozen known identities on Earth with the prestige and scientific pull that a sudden discovery of this magnitude wouldn't be too suspicious. We would just need a few Utrom to come back to Earth with us to make it work."

"Wouldn't be too bad for TCRI's stock price, either." Raph smirked.

To their surprise, Don twitched and looked down as if embarrassed.

"Yeah...about that."

They waited.

"The Utrom...that is, Mortu talked them into...uh…"

Mikey held up a finger. "Can I guess? Is it that the new CEO of TCRI is my favorite brainy brother?"

"Well...not yet. They'd have to go sign the papers to make it all official. And...it would be me, but not in my name." Don finally looked up. "Didn't you ever wonder where we'll acquire the capital to set up O'Neil Tech with Casey and April?"

"I get it," Raph said. "We go back to New York and cure cancer and get TCRI a boatload of money. Then you and April build up O'Neil Tech, maybe even bringin' some of your stuff back from here, and that's how we end up with Cody in a hundred years."

"Basically, yes."

"Don, it's _perfect_." Leo grinned at his brother. "It puts you right where you belong in both worlds and it lets us set up the future we've already seen."

"Well, yeah." Don shrugged, still clearly embarrassed. "It's going to be a ton of work. But…"

"But nothing!" Mikey jumped up. "It's awesome and we should totally do it! When can we leave?"

"Well, we need to talk to Master Splinter first," Don said, ticking points off on his fingers, "and I need to arrange another absence with the Institute. And I have some other projects to wrap up, and I'm sure the other Utrom do, too. But otherwise – pretty soon."

"Hey." Everyone looked up at Raph who was peering at Donatello. "Are you really okay with this? 'Cause if you'd rather somebody else cure cancer and never go back to the Earth, I mean…"

Don shook his head.

"I love it here, don't get me wrong. I do. And I belong here. But." He made a rueful smile. "I think we've _all_ learned something about abandoning our home. It's okay to have multiple places we call home, but the Earth is a part of us and we need to be there. Who else is going to keep the Purple Dragons from taking over, or watch for another rise of the Foot?"

Don looked at his hands.

"We're children of two worlds, if you really look at it. We're half Utrom because of the ooze that mutated us, but we're half plain old Earth turtles, or rat in Sensei's case. And Master Yoshi before us was the same way. He was fully human, but he was split between his Earth home and the Utrom he served. I think...we belong to both parts of that legacy, too. Not just this one."

He sighed.

"And...I can't tell you how much I appreciate you being willing to give up everything and live here for just my sake but...well, let's just say I know _exactly_ how that could turn sour even with all our best intentions. I'd rather you decide for yourselves if you really want a permanent place here."

"Don't matter if we do or not," Raph said. "We stick together. If you wanna be here, we'll follow you." He quirked a smile. "It ain't like we ain't followed you worse places. I seem to remember helping you string sensors for the lair and that wasn't exactly fun."

Don looked up at him and met Raph's smile with his own. "Fair enough. But...I'll follow you guys, too. So I guess we'll end up following each other around in circles."

"Except Leo," Mikey put in. "He doesn't follow _anybody_."

"Well…" Leo began.

But Don cut him off. That was one discussion – the decision about chunin – he was still trying to avoid. He smiled instead.

"Besides. I built us that lair and I'm pretty proud of it. Seems like we should get at least _some_ use out of it, right?"

-==OOO==-

There was an ominous silence coming from behind his head.

Don swallowed.

"I mean, that's the logical thing to do. Right?"

The soft fingers on his skull twitched minutely, but he could sense it all the same. Though not as clearly as Krian'daren could probably sense his mounting nervousness at her lack of response.

"Um…" Don felt his shoulders inching upwards almost defensively. "Did I say something wrong?"

"No," she answered at last. "I wait for you to say something true."

Cold washed into Don's gut. "What-what do you mean?"

"You chatter, young one. You do not _speak_."

If Krian'daren had been literally any other being in the universe – except maybe Master Yoshi – Don would have settled into an argument of semantics, using his words to build a shield and a plausible escape route all at once. But that was why Krian'daren was still Don's doctor and therapist now that she could make some time for him.

Because she could hear past his defenses and see through his workings.

And when he was really honest with himself, Don knew he still needed that. As much as he ever had, in fact.

It was the only reason he had let her win the argument about resuming their meetings for a while. He wasn't happy to be taking two hours away from all the other beings who were still trapped in a digital existence waiting to be returned to comatose bodies or to help in the design of new, robotic ones. But between Krian'daren reaching out to her own people and the publicity of the trial, experts from every world friendly to the Collective had flocked to the Homeworld to offer their assistance in restoring the thousands of cognitively-displaced people. Krian'daren was now jointly running the project with a half dozen others, and scores more were hard at work night and day building bodies and stabilizing telexistence programs and talking to the many victims.

Teachers had come, too, and the Utrom equivalent of social workers, to hold classes in the digital realm through the telexistence technology in order to prepare the victims for reintegration into society. Some of those held by the Architect had left the universe hundreds of flows prior – and they had a lot of catching up to do before they would be ready to return to a physical existence.

It was a good thing the combined resources, expertise, and brilliance of the Homeworld Healing Academy, the Hoolann Medical Foundation, and tens of other similar organizations outweighed maybe the entire medical community of the Earth, or Don wasn't sure there would have been any way of doing all that needed to be done.

But with so many experts converging, and so many other hands and brains to solve the problems of saving the lives which were more difficult to restore, Krian'daren had claimed this much time for herself with Donatello – and he simply could not bring himself to refuse.

Still, he'd avoided their first meeting for the last quarter-rhythm for this very reason. Because he could not, even now, hide things from her.

Or, rather – he _could_ and he _had_ , particularly about the disintegration bomb. But he didn't want to have to do that anymore. Not when he was hiding from everyone else.

Don sighed and let some of his inner, defensive protections fall.

"It's not...it's not a lie. We really _should_ go back to Earth now and start helping people who will die without that cure. And...I really do want to be able to keep both places. And...and both families."

He could hear the slight warming in her voice. "Yes. Better. What more?"

"I…" From out of nowhere, or, rather, from the depths of his heart, Don felt his throat getting tight and his eyes begin to burn. "I...there's so much…" The first tears threatened to fall and he fought them back. "They...my brothers and Sensei...they came back, and they want everything to be the way it was, and it _is_ , but it _can't_ be. And...and I…"

The hands on his head moved to his shoulders.

Don ducked his head. "I...I never wanted to have to kill the Architect." The unspoken, barely-thought-of, avoided-at-all costs truth broke out of him with an almost-sob. "I know...I _know_ how bad it was, and I know what it did to people. But...it was _alive_. And it was lonely. It...it was _just_ like me. And I...I killed it."

He rubbed at his beak.

"I know...I didn't have a choice. I mean. We gave it a choice. But…" He gulped a breath. "And it wasn't the first being I've ever killed. But…"

"But we lived in it," she said very gently. "Your mind was its mind. Same thoughts. And feelings, too, though different."

Don nodded. He wrapped his arms around his chest. "How...how can something try so hard to do something to help, and be evil at the same time? It only...it only wanted to make things better. It was _wrong_ , but...it didn't _mean_ to be evil."

"Young one." Krian'daren's voice took on a firm note. "Mean you the Architect? Your other family? Or yourself?"

Don could only whisper, "I...guess I don't know. Maybe all of it. And it all hurts."

"And this hurt you cannot share? You must hide?"

"I don't…" Don sucked in another breath and tried to keep his words even. "I don't know how to-to tell anyone else. Mostly...mostly Master Splinter and Leo and Raph and Mikey. I'm not...it's different with Leatherhead and Mortu and Zayton. They didn't...they aren't…"

"They did not hurt you."

"Yeah."

"But you speak not to them."

"No. I...I hurt them enough already. I...I hid the bomb from them, and I almost died. And Mortu...I...what I did to him…" He couldn't suppress a shudder. "And I'm...I'm scared."

"To be hurt again?"

"Yes."

"But still you must leave?"

"Yes. Even though I…"

Krian'daren tapped the top of his head, her usual signal for him to stop and listen. To Don's surprise, she rose up out of her seat behind him and edged around his wide shell so she could crouch in front of him, meeting his eyes with her round ones.

"You do all in an order wrong, Donatello." Her voice was soft, and warm, and there was a tremble in it that he rarely heard from this remarkable friend and ally. "You forgive, and you ask the Council for blame, and you work selflessly. But not yet have you grieved."

Don frowned even as his heart jolted at the word. "I cried plenty on the ship, remember? When they first came back? And all those times in my room?"

"You cried then for then. You have not cried now for what is now." Her expression was kind and fond and open and loving. "Your brothers and Master found, but for all that joy, it still gives pain. Your name cleared, but still you guilt. Your noble plan, but still you leave afraid."

Don clenched his jaw and nodded.

Krian'daren reached forward and touched her hand to his cheek. He only realized then that it was damp.

"You remember. Healing not all at once. Pieces here and there. Forward and back. Good days and not."

He nodded again, and now felt tears beginning to flow.

"Let your heart be sad today. If you cannot yet with others, with me. Cry your sorrow here. Let me carry it instead."

Donatello's eyes closed and he felt his mouth fall open on a gasping, ragged moan. An instant later, a small, familiar form wrapped itself around him, holding him tightly.

Don held onto Krian'daren as if she were the only real thing in the world and let himself cry freely.

Sometimes there were words, too.

"I'm sorry...I didn't want...I'm sorry I killed…"

"I don't know how to...I can't be what they want...what if they don't want me now…"

"I don't want to go back...I want to stay here...I'm scared to be alone again…"

He cried in Krian'daren's arms as he had in those first quarter-rhythms of therapy. And he knew that he was safe, that no word he so much as whispered to her would ever be repeated, and that she would love him and watch over him no matter what he confessed from the darkness of his heart. That she could be Poly-Doctor Krian'daren and his Aunt Kria and she would hold him as both through whatever came next.

So he cried until the storm passed, and he felt no shame when it was over.

Krian'daren waited until he was still and calm before she drew back, offering him the Homeworld equivalent of a handkerchief and giving him a moment to compose himself before she spoke again.

"Too long to wait for that, young one."

He made a sound that was explosive and oddly wet and it rattled in his beak. "Yeah, I guess so. Sorry."

"Ready then to make plans for next?"

Don nodded. It was what he had learned about himself long ago – once the emotion was vented, he needed to _do_ something about it. He needed a goal, a strategy, something concrete he could tackle to address the situation. Otherwise he ended up cycling helplessly in his own unhappiness.

"Then. Name the problems, young one." And with a final smile, Krian'daren returned to her place in the chair. Her fingers returned to the dome of his head as always.

And that was comforting, too, that so much had changed but she had not, and that he could still be a blubbering mess but she would still sit behind him and let him think and listen to his mind as he did so. That the world was different, but she was still Aunt Kria.

"Okay." He heaved in a deep breath. "First, I...I need to come to terms with the Architect and what I did. Which means more therapy, right?"

" _Yes_."

Don couldn't help but smirk at her fierce agreement.

"Second, I need to start talking to Mortu and Leatherhead and Zayton again. I...I need them to understand what I'm going to do and why...and I need to know we're really okay."

"And let them help you, yes."

"...Right. Third, I…" He broke off. "I have to do something about my brothers and Master Splinter...but I don't know what."

"Learn to be you, with them. To be scared, but to try."

"And probably more therapy."

He could hear her smile. "As would you say, _so_ much more therapy, young one."

"I don't know how much more time I'll have here, though," Don said. "We can't really wait with that cure."

"You forget."

Don almost turned around and only flows of practice kept him still. "Forget what?"

"You are still tuastum. And my patient."

"Yes, and?"

"You go nowhere without agreement by your guardians. And I will not agree to them too fast."

"But!"

"My choice," she interrupted him firmly. "Your health, your mind, your heart. My choice, young one. Not your fault if the cure is late. Compared to what is, a miracle."

"Isn't it wrong to let people die because it takes me longer to get back with it?" he asked. "When I could save them right now?"

"Donatello. You cannot save every life. And that you cannot is _not_ your fault." She made a soft sound Don's translator told him was meant to ease the bite in her words. "Life is life, young one. Many you give back. Many the universe takes. Some by choice, some not, some unknowing. Will your Earth people die without the cure? Perhaps."

"Statistically, almost certainly," he put in.

She did not acknowledge his interruption. "But without your own healing, what harm will come? And what damage done later? What lives endangered if you are not well to save them?"

"But it's not about _me_ , Aunt Kria!" Don protested. "It's...it's about all those people! Another rhythm here means at least a thousand lives lost worldwide on Earth!"

She tapped his head. "Stop. _Think_ , young one."

Don took a deep breath. "Okay. I...I think I understand what you mean about me, even if I don't agree with it. But...it's true that Leatherhead's parents wanted to consult with a specialist for the last phase of testing, and that's slowing things down anyway, so…"

"So delay is not yours. Not your choice, your hands. Blame not yourself for it, or the losses."

Don's shoulders fell. "You're right. I...I can't change everything, even if I want to."

"Do not try, please."

Don laughed in spite of himself. "But that's what I do, isn't it?" And he tried to ignore the strange brokenness in his voice. "I can remake the world, or find a way out of anything, or pull answers out of thin air. It's...it's what I am."

"No." And her voice was soft and fond. "You have one heart, young one. One mind. One life. You do much, but not all. You carry weight more than your share. But what you _are_?"

Don was surprised when she placed one hand on his cheek and one on the back of his neck, anchoring him. It was gentle and just as comforting as the hug had been.

"You are Donatello. And by us all, you are beloved."

-==OOO==-

"Hey, guys."

The Donatello who walked into the apartment that night was more subdued than the version who had bounced around for the last quarter-rhythm, and Don knew he didn't imagine Leatherhead and Mortu taking notice of it. He'd sat with Krian'daren long past the end of their formal appointment, even taking dinner together, until he felt mostly composed.

Not necessarily _better_ , but composed.

"Good evening," Zayton said. "Krian'daren messaged to say you would eat with her – I assume you have done so?"

"Yeah."

"Your brothers also messaged," Leatherhead said, looking up from his place on the couch with a datapad in his hands. "They wondered if you intended to join them for evening practice and meditation. I hope you will forgive me – I told them I would extend the invitation but for them to proceed without you if you were delayed."

"No." Don sank down on the couch next to him. "Thank you. That's...that works."

Mortu made his way over. He settled himself on the edge of the couch, which put him on a level with Donatello's shoulder. "So, has your false cheerfulness finally been defeated?"

Don huffed a laugh. "I guess so. Was it that obvious?"

" _Yes_ ," Zayton said with great feeling. "Annoyingly so, if I may be honest."

"Always."

"My brother." Leatherhead set the datapad aside and put a large hand on Don's arm. "The truth is that none of us knows how to begin to help you, but do not doubt that we are in this with you. Just as we all would have submitted ourselves to the High Council's punishment, so too do we stand with you now, no matter what you need or choose or feel."

Don swallowed a lump in his throat. "I...I know that."

"Then know, too," Zayton said, "that you do not have to go through with this. I am certain arrangements can be made for the medical information to be imparted to the people of Earth and the the remains of TCRI resurrected without your presence if you would like to remain on the Homeworld."

That made Don shake his head. "No. I...I need to be there. I need to…"

A soft touch on his shoulder drew his attention; Mortu had extended a foreleg and his eyes were warm and understanding. "You are afraid of the Earth and all the pain you endured there, and for that reason you feel you must face it again."

Don closed his eyes. "I guess so, yeah."

With his eyes closed, he had only the shifting of the couch to warn him before Leatherhead wrapped huge arms around Don and pulled him halfway into the crocodile's lap.

"None of us would see you suffer, my brother. And yet, we understand your need to be strong once more, to banish these last doubts. You have endured so many. Do not fear that we will try to prevent you. But do not shut us out any longer."

"What Leonardo said in the Council chamber was correct," Mortu said. "You have been alone too long. You have forgotten that you do not need to carry all your secrets inside now as you did in the presence of the Architect. You do not need to hide your heart from us."

"We did not survive the Architect together only for you to lose yourself now, my boy," Zayton added.

Don let out a sigh and allowed himself to relax into Leatherhead's embrace. "You guys...I don't even know…"

"You do not have to know," Leatherhead said softly. "Only let yourself be."

Mortu took to the air only to get close enough to Don's face to press their foreheads together. "We are your family, Donatello. And we shall be for all the flows to come. If you must hide from the world, remember you need never hide from us."

And with tentative forelegs, he pushed the purple mask up until it was balanced on Don's head like a headband.

Don felt the touch on his bare skin, and felt a flash of guilt at the betrayal it implied. He had just accepted his Clan, had only just reclaimed his place as a Hamato.

But he was still himself, too. Just as he was Hamato Donatello, he was also Astrocyte Donatello. The Utrom didn't have family names, only given names, but 'Astrocyte' meant more to Don than his title and his academic work. It was who he had become. It was who these three had helped him become.

And he was theirs now, body, mind, heart, and soul. As much as he had ever been Hamato.

Don gave a tiny nod and let Mortu remove the mask entirely. Zayton took it from Mortu and carefully set it to one side.

Mortu ejected himself from his disc and settled himself on Leatherhead's broad shoulders, where he could touch them both. And Zayton closed the circle standing before the couch, one metal hand on Don's knee, one on Leatherhead's arm.

And this hug was as warm as the hug from his brothers in the Architect's ship, as warm as the hug from the rooftop when he accepted the mask and the mantle of Clan once more. It wasn't as physically overwhelming – Leatherhead's tight grip notwithstanding – but it was the same, with the same closeness and certainty.

"I'm sorry," he said softly. "I didn't realize. I...I really was alone for a long time. I...I didn't mean to forget you."

"You didn't forget," Leatherhead said. "You needed and still need time to adjust. We understand that."

"Because we are not as inherently pushy as a certain _other_ group of Earth-originating beings with a claim upon you," Zayton said with a wry twist to his tone.

Don snorted at that.

"Donatello." Mortu's voice was barely above a whisper, meant only for this knot of them. "The Earth is your home, but the Homeworld is also your home. Splinter and the other turtles are your family, but we are also your family. I realize you have a difficult path to walk before you will feel entirely like yourself again, but remember – however you walk it, any of us will walk beside you gladly. You need only ask."

"Or don't ask," Leatherhead said, "and simply let us be there."

"Even if I'm on Earth?" Don asked. "Even if I go back with them for years at a time?"

"What are years to us?" Zayton pointed out. "What is time to the bonds that link like minds and souls?"

"Besides." Leatherhead's rumble took on a fond amusement. "You did not think you would be returning to the Earth without us, did you?"

Don looked up in surprise. "Wait, what?"

Zayton chuckled through his voice processor. "I did not think the Architect had impaired your perceptions and reasoning so much. Perhaps we should ask Krian'daren to scan you again."

"Indeed." Mortu's Earth-grin was broad. "We should summon her at once."

"Hey, no!" Don squirmed in the grip of Leatherhead as the other three mocked him. "Since when are you coming back to Earth with me?"

"Since you decided you were going," Mortu said, eyes dancing with merriment. "After all, the Utrom who undertake the journey will need to be protected, to say nothing of a valued member of the Secrete and the Institute."

"And my parents and I have a few other experiments we were forced to abandon when they fled the Earth that we could begin again," Leatherhead said.

"And I'm certainly not staying here without all of you!" Zayton folded his metal arms across his chest. "It would be frightfully boring!"

"You…" Don swiveled his head between them. "You're…"

Mortu touched his head with a foreleg. "The Hamato Clan was not the only family broken by these events and recently reforged. Can you truly be so surprised that we would no sooner leave you than they?"

"It's just…" And all the fight went out of Don like a burst water balloon. "I guess not."

"Are you upset by this?" Leatherhead asked.

"No." Don shook his head. "I'm...relieved. I thought…"

"You were preparing yourself to say goodbye to us," Zayton said. "Preparing your mind for a new grief to join all the others. I am delighted to disappoint you, my boy."

"Yeah, me too." Don drew in a breath. "But...speaking of goodbye...there is one thing."

"Name it," Mortu said.

"Well, I want to make sure I do a proper sign-off for the program, because I was gone so long and it feels really unfair to come back and not say anything to all those kids before I leave again. And my students and the rest of the Institute. But I also, I mean, it's probably impossible, but if there's any way…"

And Leatherhead suddenly understood. With a broad grin, he leaned his whole jaw on top of Don's head and purred obnoxiously loudly, causing Don to squawk as his ear canals started to vibrate.

"Ack!"

"My brother." Leatherhead continued to purr over the now-struggling turtle in his arms. "Do not think for one instant that you are alone in that desire. We have simply been waiting for you to be ready to admit it."

"To admit several things," Zayton put in pointedly.

"All-all right!" Don started wrestling in earnest, trying to break out of the grip that was strong and fast and welcome and frustrating all at once. "Fine! I'm sorry for being a shellhead! Quit doing that!"

Mortu chuckled. "You should not have yielded the tactical advantage so easily, Donatello. We have been waiting a quarter-rhythm to have your heart returned to you, and to have you returned to us. Some revenge is in order."

"I...argh...I thought Utrom don't...go in for...revenge."

"Then it is a good thing I have had enough experience of peoples from Earth to overcome my heritage."

And Mortu, with unholy glee in his face, dropped from Leatherhead's shoulder onto Don's plastron – and wiggled his forelegs where he knew Don was the most ticklish.

Don barely survived the double-assault, giggling and fighting and wrestling with tears streaming down his face, and not even he knew if they were tears of sorrow or relief or happiness or from the endless tickle-war that was _deeply_ unfair because Utrom weren't ticklish and neither was Zayton. On the other hand, Leatherhead was ticklish enough for both of them combined.

Don barely survived it – the couch didn't stand a chance.

But as broken as the couch was afterwards, something far more important had grown infinitely stronger in the meantime.

-==OOO==-

Leo watched Donatello pick his way through the half-completed tunnel that led to the Heart. A great deal of work was being done to again conceal and protect the Heart; the original stairway Don had described to them had been obliterated by his own plan, leaving any visitors to crawl through the rough fortifications that had been raised since then.

It added a melancholy sort of flavor to what should have been a good experience for Don and Leo didn't like it.

"Are you certain you do not wish to make the journey yourselves?" Mortu asked.

Leo didn't turn until the sweep of Leatherhead's tail was out of sight where he was scuttling along behind Don.

"I think I wouldn't mind it someday," Leo said, "but not right now."

"Donnie deserves some time alone without havin' ta worry if we're gonna pass inspection," Raph said.

"Besides." Mikey shrugged. "It's not like we won't come back."

"I'm glad to hear that." Mortu flicked a few controls on his disc and began to project an image. "There is something I wanted you to see."

It took a moment for the image to resolve itself into the stage where Don had once given his regular broadcasts. Without the usual science and demonstration gear all over the place, it looked more than a little barren.

Then Don walked out onto the stage.

"Greetings, everyone. First, let me say how grateful I am to the many of you who have sent me your continuous support. Not just during my absence or even my trial before the High Council, but the Science Institute continues to forward the messages and vids you keep sending me. And if any of them aren't positive, I haven't seen them, though maybe that's just my friends looking out for me."

He smiled, his face crinkled up to make it obvious he was joking.

"Now, as for the show. So many different people of all ages and all worlds have made it clear to me that having a regular broadcast about science, making it fun and making it accessible, has been invaluable to you. And I want to tell you right now that, while the show is going to have to change a bit, it's not going anywhere."

A graphic appeared in the image showing a schedule with different colors highlighting different upcoming programs.

"For the foreseeable future, there will be alternating broadcasts. One set will be what you've had during my absence – my amazing students and partners at the Institute will continue working with those of you who write in and will help you demonstrate your own discoveries and processes. There should also be some pretty special guests stopping by, but you'll find out about that later."

There was a pause and Leo could see a moment of hesitation before his brother forged on.

"The other set of broadcasts will be from me, but in a different form. See, for certain reasons, I have to go back to my other home planet for a while. I don't know how long I'll be away from the Collective, and you all remember how we've talked about the time differential, right? But I wouldn't leave you hanging."

Don's smile went a little more brittle.

"When I was away before, there were a lot of things I missed. My family and friends, and the Homeworld which has become so important to me. But I also missed all of you, and I missed doing this. I...I didn't have a teacher to help me understand science when I was young – and by your standards I'm still pretty young!"

He huffed a laugh before sobering once more.

"I don't want any of you not to have someone to tell you every day that you can do anything you can imagine. That there is an endless universe to explore and everything you find adds to the greater whole we all share. That only you can contribute your share and we need every bit we can get. No matter how far away I am, I want to keep being able to do that for you. So every one of you has someone who believes in you – no matter what."

Donatello let out a breath and his eyes were soft.

"Therefore, while I'm on the Earth, I'm going to be recording a little series of my own. I'll show you some of my earliest inventions and walk you through how the technology I grew up knowing changed how I look at the more advanced technology of the Collective. I won't be able to receive as many of your vids and spheres and letters, but I'll respond whenever I can."

Then he grinned and stretched his arms out wide.

"And _who knows_ what else I'll build or try while I'm there? That planet is where I had reason to piece together so much of what I've already shown you, and there's no real possibility that it's going to be any less eventful this time around. But whatever it is I end up building, I promise to share it with you. Unless it's explosive. I think most of your parents would rather I keep those things to myself."

A block of text in the Utrom language popped up for a few seconds, clearly a disclaimer of some sort.

"So."

Don made a complicated sort of gesture with his hands and arms. Then he bowed.

"Thank you all for giving me this opportunity, and for joining me on the journey to see what we can all do together. I have been honored and touched by your enthusiasm, your kindness, and your welcome. I hope to continue to entertain and encourage you from the Earth and wherever else I go. And when I come back to the Collective, I'll do more live broadcasts, too."

He rose and his smile was warm and affectionate.

"So this isn't goodbye. It's just 'I'll see you later,' I guess. And until then, remember – always believe, always try, and you will find a way."

Mortu cut the recording.

"He told us he was going to keep making his science show," Mikey said. "Which is totally awesome. It's like 'Donatello the Science Fellow Does New York!'"

"You've been talking to Zayton," Mortu said, holding back a laugh.

"Yup!"

Leo tipped his head. "Why did you want us to see this?"

Mortu's gaze turned towards the tunnel that led to the Heart.

"What you did is noble, offering to stay here so he could remain without guilt. But Donatello is correct that there is good he can do on the Earth, too. Like his broadcast, he belongs to both worlds and contributes best by holding onto each of them rather than surrendering one entirely."

"I hear a 'but' comin'," Raph said.

"Not a 'but.' An 'and.'" Mortu looked back to all of them. "Donatello is not the only one who would be welcomed here for his unique contributions. As he said, 'only you can contribute your share and we need every bit we can get.' I would like to ask you all to consider if Donatello is the only one who should be sending something back to the Collective from Earth."

"Send back what?" Mikey asked. "Like, Raph doing a workout video or something?" Then he grinned. "'Break Your Back with Raph!' No, wait, 'Raph Cuts Your Flab in Half' is better."

"How about 'Raph's Gonna Kick Your Shell,' Mikey?"

"Aw, come on. That doesn't even rhyme. You gotta try harder, Raphie-boy!"

Leo didn't even have to look to swing an arm out between them. "Stop that. Mortu, what do you mean? It's not like any of us have anything to teach that you don't already know."

"You think so?" Mortu smiled an Earth smile. "For example, there are a number of martial techniques that have been lost to the Guardians, or new ones which they have yet to master. To say nothing of the metaphysical studies that were particular to Hamato Yoshi."

"Sure, but Don knows more about that stuff than us 'cause of that sphere," Raph said, still glaring at Michelangelo.

Mortu regarded Leo. "Donatello told me he intended to open the sphere of Yoshi's memories to you all. Tell me honestly. Will you truly not explore them in depth with unrelenting dedication?"

"Oh, you've got a good point!" Mikey nodded vigorously. "As soon as Don lets that thing out of his sight, Leo's gonna be _all_ over it. He's, like, not happy if he's not Numero Uno in the meditation department."

"Exactly." Mortu shifted in the air. "Just because you may not – at this point in your lives, anyway – be ready to stand before a crowd of millions to share your insights, does not mean you have nothing to share. All of you have something which matters to the Collective and which, if you remained here, we would hope you might contribute."

"You need more cranky people on the Homeworld?" Mikey asked with wide-eyed innocence, still dodging Raphael.

Mortu's expression twitched. "Let us just say that we as a society have become somewhat used to that which is calm and peaceful and understanding. A certain reckless or irreverent element might not go amiss."

Then Mortu looked at them more closely. "But it is more than that. You are heirs of Hamato Yoshi, whom some of us knew and revered. You are family to the Utrom just like Leatherhead. Even if you do nothing, you should know you have as much a right to a place here, and as much to offer in your own ways, as Donatello."

Leo blinked not just at Mortu's words, but at the serious look that stole over Raphael's face. "Raph?"

"No, I'm fine. It's just…" Raph shrugged and smiled a little sheepishly. "I'm kinda starting to get it now is all. How easy it was for Don to feel at home here without us. They really took him in, gave 'im somethin' special, ya know? And yeah, we're leavin', but it does feel pretty good to have a place that actually wants us back."

And when Donatello and Leatherhead returned from the Heart, both practically glowing with joy and peace and Don, at least, openly rubbing away tears that spilled from eyes bright with relief, they understood even a bit more.

"Next trip," Leo decided. "When we're ready. It's not right for Donnie to be the only citizen here if we're going to be part of this society, too."

Raph and Mikey wholeheartedly agreed.

-==OOO==-

While the final tests and approvals to take the cure back to Earth were completed, and while Don returned to his regular appointments with Aunt Kria, there was still much more to do to prepare to leave, between gathering the supplies for those Utrom who were making the journey with them, and also settling affairs like teaching positions, Secrete posts, and apartments which were about to become vacant.

And while they arranged for their own home to be maintained in their absence, Don and Leatherhead and Zayton put in a request to requisition one nearby for the rest of the Hamato Clan to have whenever they returned – and Don _tried_ to keep his family from figuring out that he was the one paying for it, but he failed and they were very amused and also grateful. The Earth-bound group also stockpiled communications equipment and various emergency beacons so they could call for a retrieval if something went wrong.

While Mortu, Leatherhead and his parents, the other Utrom joining them, and Zayton all assembled and packed their belongings for the trip – with Raph and Mikey _helping_ Zayton and Leo and Splinter trying to _stop_ them from helping – Don wandered the Homeworld on his own to say goodbye to both the place and the people.

He spoke with his students, assistants, and colleagues, promising to communicate with them as often as possible, and was thrown two separate, surprise going-away parties.

He walked the whole of Center, every byway that had become as familiar as the streets of New York, trailing his hands along the living planet that had welcomed him.

He visited with the beings still held in telexistence, just to check on them and assure them that he would return if he was needed in the process of restoring them to physical life.

And one summer-warm day, with only Mortu at his side, Don paid a visit to the ruins of the Architect's ship to say goodbye.

"I'm sorry," he told it quietly, even though it was beyond any ability to hear him. "I'm sorry for everything. I know you can't possibly understand why or how I did what I did. But...I hope you have found peace. I...I think you were alive enough to die, which means I hope you were alive enough to pass on somewhere."

He placed his hands on a piece of metal, cold and hard.

"I've never...I've never liked killing anyone. Every person, every _being_ is unique, and when you kill them, you take that away from the universe. And you...you were unique. The universe isn't whole when you're not in it. But...you had to stop. And you wouldn't. And I...I almost killed myself for you."

Don ducked his head.

"I saved the people you killed. I mean, most of them, I hope. And I would...if I could have died and let you live...I...I probably would have given you that chance. But you didn't let me. And I hate that you're gone because you didn't have to do any of this. But...I understand."

He swallowed a knot of emotion in his throat.

"I'm...I'm going to keep working to make the universe better. Not the way you wanted. But _what_ you wanted. I'll...I'll keep saving people, and I'll keep taking care of people. It won't...it's not what you would have done. But I hope...wherever you are, I hope you know that I'm still doing my best. Even if that's what made me have to kill you in the first place."

He let his tears flow, and they were agonizing, but they did not tear him apart.

"And...I'm sorry. Goodbye, Architect."

When he finally turned away from the husk of the being he had known, Donatello was at last ready to leave the Homeworld.

-==OOO==-

Of course, he was only allowed to leave after finally satisfying Aunt Kria that he was well enough recovered emotionally for the trip, _and_ giving Krian'daren his word of honor that he would return at once if he was injured _at all_ , _ever_ , _and_ promising to communicate with her regularly. Or else she was using her medical authority to teleportal him back at her will for a checkup.

And Don hugged her and cried and thanked her and she held him just as tightly.

Soon, staggeringly soon, the assembled travelers stood upon the Secrete's teleportal that would deposit them on Earth.

"Sure you're ready for this?" Raph asked Don as Don blinked a little too hard looking around the Homeworld for the last time.

"Ready enough," Don said after a long breath. "Besides, we'll be back." He made himself smile. "We're gonna rack up so many frequent teleportal miles, they'll have to figure out an upgrade system."

"Rather different from how we arrived, is it not?" Zayton asked.

Don smiled at him. "Very."

"Our fates have been realigned many times," Splinter said, looking with fond eyes at his own Clan and their allies, both the family that had sheltered his son and now the people who were giving up so much to help a planet that had been their prison. "What the future holds no one may know, but I choose to trust in it. I choose to trust in us all."

Donatello spread his arms and in one gesture gathered all the supplies and belongings that would be accompanying the group into his dimensional fold for ease of travel. Then he looked up at where Bonani and the Guardians flanked the teleportal control panel, interspersed with the Secrete Obscura – all of which snapped to attention and gave a salute.

Mortu regarded them. "I leave the safety of our people in your hands. May the Heart go with you and guide you in your efforts. Recall me if ever there is a need."

"We shall," Bonani said.

A few members of the Secrete who had been on Earth would be returning for guard duty along with Mortu. The Guardians had, of course, been given the option to return to the Earth as well, either permanently or as part of the security force for as long as the Utrom remained, but Don had known they wouldn't take it and he could see why. They'd had the Earth equivalent of two decades to settle into this world and this way of life, and had never cultivated ties back on the Earth knowing that this would be their fate. The Homeworld was their true home now.

He was just lucky enough to have _two_ true homes. As he had _two_ true families.

"Go with honor and victory," Bonani intoned, bowing low. "And return to us soon."

Don didn't hear the proper replies Mortu and Leo and Splinter made. His blood was pounding in his ears and he could only hear his own thoughts.

_Goodbye._

_Thank you._

_Don't worry. I'll be back._

_Again and again and again. Forever and ever._

_But I'll never really leave. I'll never really be gone._

_Because even on the Earth, I will still hear the Song._

_And if I ever get lost again, I'll be able to follow it home._

_To either of my homes._

_To wherever my family is._

_Either of my families._

_I came here feeling more alone than I thought I could even survive._

_I'm leaving, but I did survive after all...and I'll never be alone again._

The certainty carried him away in the wash of the teleportal.


	6. Redefine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, we've reached the penultimate chapter! Next week will be the final chapter of this entire series...unless I come back and add onto it later. Next week will also be what is probably the longest chapter of the entire series BY FAR. If I had the time, I might even break it into 2, but I want to get this all up and done before the holidays (and much holiday travel on my end when I have very unreliable access to the interwebs outside my phone).
> 
> Also, be aware – I am 90% sure I'm putting the final chapter up on Sunday, not Monday next week, due to the same holiday stuff. So...early present?
> 
> Next week I'll probably write you all a long and sentimental goodbye and thank you. For tonight, I'm going to reveal the song for Act 8, which is also, not incidentally, a theme for Acts 5-8 just as "Angel" from Act 1 was for 1-4. The song for Act 8 has been a song I have played endlessly for most of this year, and the more I listen to it, the more true I find it.
> 
> The theme for Act 8 is "The Light" by the band Disturbed. Go listen to it – seriously.
> 
> Thanks for helping me rekindle my own light this year. I hope I have repaid your amazing kindnesses in some small measure.
> 
> Enjoy!

Because the original TCRI building had been destroyed, the rematerialization target was an isolated location in the Catskills. It had been a TCRI installation known only to the Utrom and their allies, a retreat should their alien origins have been discovered while in New York City.

Of course, that meant it had been several years since anyone had actually visited the site.

Immediately upon materializing, Michelangelo let out an enormous sneeze. " _AAAAHHH-CHOOO_!"

"Where are we?" Leo asked. As the last of the group were fully reassembled from their journey, the residual energy of the teleportal process faded and took all light with it.

Mortu and the other Utrom in robo-organic suits immediately activated their built-in lights to illuminate the sealed room whose coordinates Mortu had chosen for arrival.

"We are in the underground bunker," Mortu said. "Follow me."

He led the way through the cavernous room to a wall where he pressed his suit's hand against a hidden switch. Light began to bloom throughout the room while a control panel slid open beside it.

Don shifted to where he could see what Mortu was doing. "So the base is still secure?"

"Yes. It appears that the automated systems are still functional and I show no perimeter breaches."

"Not bad for bein' gone a couple years," Raph said with a nod. "Here's hopin' our place is the same when we get there."

There was a moment of stillness before Don said, "As long as you guys left the security running, it'll have locked down automatically after the first hour of nobody moving inside. So it should be fine."

Mikey elbowed Raph hard. "Dude! Way to be a Doubting Raphie!"

Raph shrugged. "Sorry, Donnie."

"No, it's fine." As soon as the door slid open, Don joined Mortu leading the way up out of the bunker.

Leatherhead glanced at Zayton, wondering if that was true. The pair of them had considered that returning Donatello to the lair he had built while in such depths of despair might actually prove more difficult and emotionally tumultuous than he expected – and had resolved to watch him closely for stress or other signs of latent depression. They were under strict orders from Krian'daren to ensure that, if Don did sink back under the influence of such, that they would send for her, or send him back at once.

But they would not know how he would respond for sure until they actually reached the lair.

Stepping out of the tunnel system into a space that looked like a school cafeteria more than anything else, Leatherhead's parents and Mortu's agents branched off to the laboratories that were at the center of the complex. While some doses of the cure had been created on the Homeworld, they would need to put in significant work to get their on-site equipment up and running to reproduce the compound with Earth ingredients. And without a current TCRI establishment in New York City, they would have to work from here until Mortu could arrange other facilities. Once Mortu had recovered TCRI's bank accounts and could set up an entirely human lab, they would pass off their work and return to the Homeworld.

Leatherhead had offered to remain with his parents to help and to protect them, but they had told him to go with his friends back to the city. They understood without being told that Leatherhead very much wanted to watch over Donatello as he resumed a life he had left behind so long ago.

A moment after they had reached the surface and away from the protective corridors that impeded normal signals from the outside, the communicator at Don's hip beeped.

Don drew it and immediately grinned. "It's a message from April!"

"How _exactly_ did April get your number for a phone from the Homeworld?" Leo asked, blinking at his brother.

"It's the same number. I just added it to the Utrom communicator so it'd be compatible with Earth tech." He scrolled through the message. "Looks like she sent this about a week ago. She says she's been talking to you guys but wasn't sure if I would know that. They're planning to get back in town sometime next week, as soon as they can get flights. She says they'll be staying at Casey's mom's place but she's hoping to see us as soon as possible." As he held it, several more messages were delivered. "And now it's syncing up with the rest of my original account."

Don looked up at his brothers and smirked.

"If any of you left me any embarrassing voicemails or texts, I'll give you one chance to delete them before I go through everything."

There was an awkward beat of silence.

Then, "Nah, keep 'em." Raph shrugged. "Nothin' I wouldn't say to your face, Donnie."

Don met his eyes and his smile went warm. "Thanks, bro."

"Donatello?" called a voice from down one of the dim corridors. "We are ready for some of the equipment."

"Oh, right." Don shrugged sheepishly. "I forgot I was the pack mule of the trip."

"Like some kinda interdimensional camel," Mikey told him. "Go unload. Actually, can I come watch?"

"Sure."

Leo was moving to join them but paused at the hand on his arm. "Sensei?"

"Give them a moment, please."

Splinter waited until Donatello and Michelangelo were down the hallway with the other Utrom, leaving behind only himself, Raphael, Leonardo, Professor Honn'i'kedt, Leatherhead, and Mortu.

"What is it?" Mortu asked.

"I am aware that our return here might cause some emotional turmoil for Donatello," Splinter said, looking at each of them. "But I am also concerned that it could cause friction to arise between ourselves."

Zayton nodded. "I was speculating something similar. In some ways, it may be no easier for us to look upon your home than Donatello. My most recent memories of your lair are...not pleasant. But I shall endeavor not to let those feelings impact our current situation."

Leatherhead hummed in agreement.

"I have never seen your lair but in Donatello's own pictures," Mortu put in. "For my part, I do not expect an emotional reaction to it."

"Very well." Splinter nodded. "I wish to remind us all that we are not what we were. We are all stronger in spirit and in mind. The mistakes of the past must be allowed to sleep or we risk repeating them upon the present."

"And that _definitely_ ain't happening," Raph said with a scowl.

But there was no denying the low undercurrent of apprehension that only grew as the group separated and the turtles, Splinter, Mortu, Leatherhead, and Zayton all piled into a dark, unmarked van for the long drive into the city. Mortu drove with Zayton projecting a disguise while everyone else sat hidden in the back and tried to keep complaints about the stop-and-go traffic into the city to a minimum.

Which Splinter enforced. Rigorously.

"You know, compared to the Homeworld, the city looks so...square," Mikey said when the Manhattan skyline came into view, lit up in the darkness after sunset – fewer than three days having passed on Earth in the turtles' absence.

"Like yer head," Raph answered automatically.

"It'll be good to have a dojo again," Mikey continued blithely. "Then there will be someplace for me to kick Raph's shell!"

"We'll see about that, Mikey!"

Leo looked across the van at Michelangelo. "Speaking of the dojo, I know Klunk has gotten in there before when we were gone for a while and I'm warning you – if he used _anything_ but his litter box in the last two days, it's _you_ who will be doing all the cleaning. And then all the backflips."

Mikey flapped his hands. "Yeah, yeah. Geez. That's a shell of a thing to say when we all know the real mess is Raph."

"Have you _seen_ your room, doofus?" Raph shot back.

"At least according to Klunk you were only gone a little while," Don put in. "With Casey and April still out of the country, if you'd been gone longer, it could have been tough on him."

Mikey looked at his hands. "It's not that I forgot about him. I just...we were in a hurry. And we didn't exactly know how long we'd be gone. I hope he's okay."

"Klunk's a street cat, Mikey. He'll be fine." Don smiled. "If he ran out of kibble, not even my best defenses could keep out all the bugs. He'll have been feasting on spiders and keeping the ants at bay for us as usual."

That made Mikey smile a little more and the guilt left his posture. He really did love his cat, and he had honestly forgotten about Klunk until it was too late to go back.

At last Mortu pulled the van into the garage Don had outfitted to connect to the lair. It wasn't a direct access like their second home had been and therefore necessitated a short trek through the sewers.

They had barely descended into the subterranean tunnels when a clear reminder of the fact that they were again on Earth made itself known – rather pungently.

"Now _there's_ a smell I didn't miss!" Mikey clapped his hands over his beak. "Sewer in Springtime. Worst. Perfume. _Ever_."

Donatello and Leatherhead exchanged a glance and snickered.

"What's so funny?" Raph demanded, scowling at the stench himself.

"Thanks to our implants, which filter any dangerous chemicals or bacteria from the air and transmute them to more benign gases, the smell you perceive is one we are thankfully spared." Leatherhead grinned.

"Though we can still taste it a little," Don added quickly. "Gotta practice breathing through my nose more often."

"Remind me again why we didn't get those while we were on the Homeworld." Leo was scowling, too. "They had a definite tactical advantage over poisonous gas, right?"

"Yeah, but we were too busy bein' paranoid about the Utrom to want them poking at our senses." Raph gave up and pinched his own beak. "Stupid."

"A situation we will all remedy upon our return, I think, whenever that may be," Splinter said. He did not hold his nose because that would be undignified, but his entire snout was folded down as tightly as possible.

As they drew closer, Don's communicator beeped. "Everything's secure," he reported. "Security shows no change to the lair in the last two days, and it went into full lockdown after twelve hours of being totally unoccupied, so that's good." He smiled at everyone. "Always encouraging when my tech actually works."

"Your tech always works," Raph said, punching his shoulder. "And I seem to remember sayin' it was about time Leo and Mikey started sharin' the load making it work."

"I agree," Leo said before Mikey could object. "We've come too far out of balance relying on Donnie to do everything. We should learn to help more."

Splinter smiled to himself and did not miss a similar expression on Leatherhead's face.

"I will be happy to instruct you," Zayton offered.

"Thanks, Professor Honeycutt," Leo said.

Don shook his head. "Honn'i'kedt, not Honeycutt. We've been over this. Honestly, Zayton, didn't you try to correct them before I came back?"

"It did not seem worth the effort. It is a close enough approximation."

"It's hard!" Mikey kicked something that turned out not to be a rock and was obliged to wipe his foot along the wall while experimenting with the sounds. "Honnnnnneeeeeeecaaaattt."

"Not 'cat.' 'Kedt," Don said.

"Hunnnnnniiiiiieeeeeket."

"It _is_ another language," Leo said. "We're working on it."

"Hey, I wonder if it's in our translators." Raph pulled his from his belt where he'd stowed it after the teleportal ride. "Mikey, try it again." He tucked it into his ear.

"Hunnnnnniiiiieekk-ed."

"Huh."

"What? Did I get close?"

"Nope!" Raph gave an evil grin. "It just says you're a moron."

Don laughed. Then stopped cold. He'd been so distracted, he'd failed to realize they had arrived.

"Well, here goes." He keyed in the code and the lair promptly unlocked, the concealed door revealing itself and opening as lights came on inside.

And if Donatello hesitated before he set foot over the threshold, no one could blame him.

Mikey, on the other hand, felt no such doubt and went bolting inside, yelling "Klunk! Klunky! Daddy's home!"

Leatherhead, Zayton, and Mortu exchanged glances before entering also, understanding that they needed to give Don some space. Splinter looked closely at his son before he, too, went ahead.

"Bro?" Raph asked, low and gentle.

"I'm...I'm okay. Really."

"Don, if you're not ready…" Leo began.

Don shook himself. "No. I am ready. I just…" He shrugged. "A lot of memories, you know?"

Leo wished with all his heart and soul that he _did_ know. That he'd been there. But he could only nod. "Take your time."

Donatello drew in a deep breath and forced his feet to carry him into the lair.

Once inside, with his brothers trailing him, he held his breath until the door slid shut behind them.

"I'm back," he said mostly to himself.

There was a sudden crash.

"Oops! Sorry! Kitty-kitty! Where are you?" Mikey yelled from inside Don's lab.

"Mikey!" Don broke out of his paralysis and ran for his lab. "What the shell did you do?" He vanished inward and then there was another shout. "Michel _angelo_! Don't touch that! Get out of here! _Aaah_!"

Leo and Raph traded looks and broke into smiles.

"Coming?" Raph asked.

"Yup."

Together, they headed for the lab to rescue Don before Mikey broke something important in his kind-hearted but ultimately very annoying attempt to distract Don from all his feelings.

It was almost normal.

-==OOO==-

In the process of returning to the lair, Donatello found himself looking for a way to escape the many eyes that seemed determined to fix themselves upon him. It helped that the time-difference and the chaos of their arrival offered a very successful distraction.

After the initial assessment of the lair and ensuring it was just as it should be, Mortu, Leatherhead, and Zayton had set up a computer out in the main area and were beginning the process of restoring TCRI's bank accounts. Splinter had been fatigued by the teleportal and had taken himself to the rock garden to meditate, whereas Leo and Raph had made a horrible mess everywhere chasing Mikey while he searched haphazardly for Klunk – who was sleeping primly in the cat tower in Mikey's room, of course – and had been stuck cleaning up until the time-difference between the Earth and the Homeworld took its toll and they, too, trudged off to bed.

Don left them to their work, instead unpacking his own belongings from his dimensional fold and restoring the bedroom he had left so sterile. He'd said goodnight to everyone as sleep claimed them one by one – Leatherhead had inadvertently fallen asleep on the couch while Zayton and Mortu continued. He'd smiled when asked how he felt, and he'd tried to be upbeat about it all.

But Donatello was relieved when he found a moment to slip into his lab unnoticed as the lair quieted down. Not only did he have a lot to set right after Hurricane Michelangelo's antics, but he had a lot of thinking and processing to do.

He'd promised his Aunt Kria to stop hiding from himself, at least, and that was a promise he very much wanted to keep.

By the time he had set everything to rights and was left to stare at his workbench with empty hands, it was long past midnight on Earth, nearly dawn on the Homeworld, and the silence of the lair was hauntingly familiar once more.

_No, not quite. It isn't completely silent. I can hear Raph snoring from here. And Leatherhead, for that matter. Zayton's gone quiet, which probably means even Mortu's asleep. So I'm not alone again. It's not like it was._

_But then, neither am I._

_I wonder if the nights will ever feel like they used to. I was never afraid of the quiet on the Homeworld because quiet didn't mean...abandonment._

_I wonder if I'll ever feel like I used to being here._

_I'm not sorry I came. I want this to be a home again._

_But..._

"My son."

Don looked up, so caught up in his own thoughts he hadn't even heard Splinter enter his lab.

He half rose from his seat. "Oh. Hi, Sensei. Sorry. Was I keeping you up?"

Splinter shook his head and gestured for Donatello to return to his place. "No. I believe I was doing something quite similar to you. Reminding myself of the feeling of being at home. With all of us together once more."

"Yeah."

"You are troubled, Donatello."

For one instant, Don considered closing his heart again, keeping silent, maintaining the barriers that kept him safe. For one instant, he thought about the pain and the loss, and the newness of trust.

Then he remembered Aunt Kria.

Don had opened his heart to her, and she had helped him remember why it was so important to be honest with his family – with both of his families. Why it was worth it to take the chance, to reforge the bonds that had been broken so egregiously.

In that moment, Donatello decided he didn't want to live in silence anymore, not this kind. The quiet of the lair had been maddening once, but it was the silence where there should have been his brothers and his father in his life that had done the real damage.

And the only way to end that silence, to kill it forever, was to fill it up with something else.

"Not...not exactly." Don rubbed a hand over his head; he had decided to open up, but that didn't make it any easier. "It's not like I'm afraid I'll go to sleep and wake up and find the last two years were a dream. I know it all happened. I remember it all. But that's almost worse, isn't it?"

"Worse how, my son?" And Splinter's voice warmed slightly at the admission, at the honesty from his son who had held so much in his heart alone.

Don looked up. "Master Splinter, what's the difference between forgiveness and acceptance?"

Splinter tipped his head. "A difficult question. I suppose that to forgive is to release the anger one holds within, and to accept is to begin to move forward."

Don nodded. "Yeah, that's kinda what I think, too. And the thing is that I do forgive you guys. For everything that happened and everything we all did. And I'm really starting to forgive myself, too." He gave a small smile. "Aunt Kria was _very_ firm on that part."

"I am glad to hear it."

"But...even if it's possible not to be mad, and even not to be hurt, it's hard to really believe that it's over. The last time I was here I was...I was _broken_ , Master Splinter. My mind, my _rationality_...it-it _shattered_. And yeah, some of that was the multiple concussions thing. But…"

Don sighed and lowered his eyes to his workbench, which was far easier to face.

"I'm not mad at anybody. I'm thrilled to be back with all of you. Even though I already miss the Homeworld, too. But it's not like I've lost it. So that's all going to be fine."

Splinter took a step closer and laid a gentle paw upon his son's shoulder. "But it is difficult for you to trust that the shadows of the past will not be recast over your future."

"Basically, yeah. And I...this time I know it would be okay in the end if it happened, because I have somewhere to go and people who would get me through it, but...I...I don't want that."

"My son."

Don heard the implicit instruction in Splinter's tone and looked up.

"Any assurance I might give you would be hollow in light of events. And while I know that our future shall not repeat the pains of the past, I cannot share my certainty with you, for it was not I who was hurt so grievously. But know this, Donatello."

Don felt the power of his father, his Sensei, reaching into his mind and soul, resonating with the same strength and clarity as the Song of the Heart. It was a thing, tangible and world-shaking, and had once been the foundation for everything that mattered.

And would be again, if Master Splinter's conviction was anything to go by.

"Here in our home, or in another dimension, or upon a far world, or even beyond the veil of death – I love you, my son. As I love your brothers. And for as long as there is an ounce of honor left in me, nothing will blind me against that love ever again."

Don's throat closed with a lump and he nodded wordlessly. He did not resist when Splinter wrapped thin arms around his shoulders and drew him into an embrace, tucking his head against the strong shoulder that had supported him this way for as long as he could remember.

"Be at peace, Donatello. You are safe, now and forever."

And Don found he could start to believe it.

"Hey."

They both turned to see Leo in the doorway.

"Let's get out of here." He extended a hand to Don.

"I thought you were sleeping," Don said. Splinter released the hug, but kept one arm across Don's shoulders as if to anchor him.

Leo was smiling softly. "I napped. But I'm awake again. Come on. It's not really being back until we've hit the rooftops."

"Fearless has a point." Raph leaned around him. "Let's go."

"Ninja party!" Mikey cheered from behind them.

Don looked to Splinter who nodded. "I believe it will help you remember yourself, my son. And to remember us as well."

"Okay." Donatello stood up from his seat, sweeping a few nearby supplies into his hands and then into his dimensional pocket as he went. But before he exited, he turned and bowed low.

"Thank you, Master Splinter, for being my father."

Splinter returned the bow. "I am honored to have you for a son, Hamato Donatello."

Don's eyes pricked at that, but he rose and let his brothers form up around him to head to the surface.

When Splinter exited the lab, he found two sets of eyes and one robotic visage turned in his direction.

"They will be better when they run in the air that feeds them," he said.

Zayton nodded. "I agree. Donatello must relearn to breathe here."

"I hope you are not troubled by our intrusion, Master Splinter, although I do think it helps Donatello to adjust having us close by," Mortu said.

"I am not troubled, but not for that reason." He regarded them all. "You became Donatello's own Clan in my absence. What you did for my son, to protect him and to heal him, I can never repay. That obligation binds us as only the true bonds of family may do."

Leatherhead smiled. "I thought for a long time that I had two families. One with the Utrom who raised me and you who took me in when I was lost to them. For a time, Donatello also had the same two families."

He glanced at Mortu and Zayton before he turned back and gave a slight bow to Splinter.

"Now, I believe we are well on our way to becoming one family."

-==OOO==-

They didn't make a plan for when they hit the rooftops. They just ran.

It wasn't Ninja Tag or any of their other games. Nor was it carefree and loud and full of bravado and trying to one-up one another. It was just running. Keeping pace together.

Donatello let his mind go blank. Let himself fall into the habits of a lifetime without holding back.

And after only a few minutes, it became as effortless as it had once been. Their feet hit rooftops in sync, their leaps were a single jump from place to place. Their breaths fell into rhythm, a rhythm echoed by their heart-beats.

There were no words for what they shared between one another, but volumes were spoken nonetheless.

Finally, just before false dawn began to light the sky, they circled back to the rooftop nearest the lair entrance. For a long time, the four of them just stood watching the change come over the city as day called it back to its boisterous life.

"I really missed this," Leo said at last.

"Me too." Mikey was serious for once and leaned fondly against Leo, which shoved him into Don, which pitched Don into Raph's shoulder.

But for once, Raph didn't even object. Instead, he looked at his brother. "Donnie, whatcha thinkin' about?"

Don kept his eyes on the horizon.

"Well...there's still one thing that isn't right yet. Casey and April. Even when they get here, they're going to be stuck in Peekskill with Casey's mom."

"They sold their place, didn't they?" Leo followed Don's gaze, realizing it was pointed in the direction of a familiar shop, a familiar destination, a familiar alternate home.

"Yeah, and when Mortu opens the TCRI accounts to us, money won't be an issue so we could just buy it back." Don sighed. "But, see, the problem is that if they come back to Manhattan, they'll be in the same trouble they were before. As soon as the Purple Dragons see them, they'll start up their gang war all over again."

"Well." Mikey's voice was light and utterly dangerous. "Maybe we should do something about that."

"Like bust some _serious_ heads." Raph pounded a fist into his other hand and grinned wolfishly.

"Not just that," Leo said. "Giving them a beat-down won't really stop them. You know that."

Don turned to him. "You sound like you have an idea."

Leo nodded. "I do. And I think, if you're willing to help us out, we can put down this little turf war between us and the Dragons for a long while, if not for good."

Don drew in a breath. "Anything. It's my fault it got so bad to start with."

" _Not_ your fault," Raph argued at once. "I was here, too, and they kept comin'. Don't know when to quit, those goons."

"Generally, yes." Leo started to smile his own shark's grin of tactical domination. "But I think all they need is a little...reminder."

Mikey bounced on the balls of his feet, excited. "Reminder of what?"

"That this is _our_ city. And there's _nothing_ we can't do to protect it."

"Still sounds like a beat-down to me," Raph put in.

Leo shook his head. "Not even close. We need to show the Purple Dragons that we can do a lot more than just fight them with our fists."

Don caught the look in Leo's eyes and his brother's plan unfurled in his mind. It almost stole his breath away; he hadn't been able to read Leo that clearly since the early days in Usagi's dimension. He'd always been able to anticipate his brothers, but thinking with Leo again, seeing his strategy and instantly knowing where to slot himself in – he had believed that lost maybe forever.

Finding it again was an altogether different kind of homecoming.

"Sounds good to me," Don said. "I'm in. Sounds like a perfect welcome-back present for Casey and April, too."

Leo clapped him on the shoulder as many of the missing pieces between them fell together. "It's good to have you back, Donnie."

Don drew in a breath and felt his soul settle. "It's good to be home."

-==OOO==-

Four shadows ghosted along like clouds across the fading stars.

"It's been two nights and they ain't come outta hiding yet!" a voice yelled from within the abandoned mechanic's shop. "Tonight we're gonna make a big splash they can't ignore!"

"Aw, ease up, 'Face!" There was an audible groan behind the words. "Why we gotta go kick that hornets' nest anyway? I say we get down to actual business and start buildin' up the gang again. Leave the freaks out of it."

"And _I_ say _you_ ain't in charge these days!" DragonFace's voice went particularly shrill.

"Well maybe I _should_ be if all you're gonna do is the exact same stupid thing Hun did – and look where that got him!"

"You get over here and say that to my face, Johnny!"

"'Bout time I did!"

He never got the chance. Before Johnny had even begun to move, the entire room was plunged into deep, deep shadow.

Four shadows descended into the shouting chaos. Wherever they struck, the shouting stopped.

Within moments, a bright beam of light burst into the darkness. One particularly insightful Dragon initiate had darted to the van stored in the building and had turned on its headlights.

Four turtles stood, weapons swinging, amidst a crowd of fallen Purple Dragons.

"It's them!" DragonFace yelled. "Get them!"

The first two gang members to charge fell under Leonardo's furious blows. He held up his blades – clean, no blood upon them at all, not yet – and faced their leader.

"We're here to give you one last chance to back down. This little war you've started against us? It ends now."

"Not a chance, freak!"

"Leo, I don't think they're listenin' to ya." Raph grinned as he said it, though, and happily punched the nearest Dragon in the face.

Leo shrugged at him. "Hey, we have to try."

After confirming the other three were holding their own comfortably, he broke formation to confront DragonFace directly.

"I've been waitin' a long time for this," DragonFace said, wielding a long, stout pipe.

"There's no way you win against us. We've taken down the Shredder more than once, _plus_ aliens, _plus_ an immortal demon." Leo circled the tattooed former second-in-command under Hun. "You're endangering your entire gang."

"Which is fine!" Michelangelo yelled. "Go ahead and endanger them! Easier on us, dude!"

"It's not like you freaks would leave us alone if we didn't take you down!"

Raph turned to see who had spoken and burst into a bright laugh. "Hey Patches! How ya been?"

Don blinked. "Patches?"

"Yeah." Raph's grin was fierce. "Can't call him Mohawk anymore, not after our last visit."

Don snorted at the Purple Dragon in question and his unevenly butchered hair. "I guess not."

The Dragon formerly known as Mohawk snarled and charged for Don. "Shut up!"

Don caught him easily in a block. "If it makes you feel any better, I think it's an improvement," he told him.

Leo dodged a strike by DragonFace. "We might not ever leave you alone, not while you're out there hurting innocent people, but if you keep coming after us and our friends, we'll have no choice but to take you apart. And you _know_ what that looks like."

"You're full of it!" DragonFace backpedaled away from Leo. "You ain't never taken down the Shredder 'cause he always comes back! The last time, he left on his own without any help from you freaks. And I didn't see you helpin' with the aliens either!"

"But you saw us go up against the Demon Shredder." Don knocked Formerly Mohawk into the van and its lights wobbled. "You were there for that fight."

"Never happened." DragonFace swung and his pipe clanged off Leo's blades. "Just some kinda hallucination."

"Shell, you guys are _dumb_ , and not even in a good, funny way." Mikey bounced up to the rafters only to drop back on a pair of Dragons who were lifting their guns.

"The Demon Shredder was real, you morons!" Raph plowed through three more.

Donatello shook his head. "And your denial is half the reason you think you have to beat us. You figure if you take us down, you can prove that fight wasn't real – because we couldn't have won against those odds if somebody like you can beat us."

"Hey, we got your buddies, didn't we?" DragonFace taunted. "And we almost got you, too. You smell like chicken when you burn, turtle freak."

But the other Purple Dragons were drawing up short of the fight and looking at the turtles with wide eyes.

"It was real?" the blue-haired Johnny asked. "All that stuff with the monsters really happened?"

"Yeah," Raph told him, needing all his control not to rip DragonFace's head off for burning Don and April and Casey. "All of it."

"Stop it!" DragonFace yelled. "They're lying! Take them out! Now!"

Several Dragons raised their guns and pointed them at the turtles, but no one moved.

Leo backed up to rejoin his brothers. "They remember. And you do, too, DragonFace, even if you can't admit it. Stop all this before somebody gets hurt. We've gone easy on you for now. But if you keep targeting us and our friends, we _will_ pull out all the stops."

And only Raph and Mikey and Leo knew when Don flinched, the reaction invisible but not unfelt.

DragonFace whirled on his gang who stood surrounding the turtles and outnumbering them easily seven-to-one even with the unconscious or injured members of the gang scattered across the floor.

"I said get them!"

"Maybe," Donatello said, angling for a more peaceful solution, "they remember what we did. And what we can do. And they don't want to go up against us."

"It's all lies!" DragonFace pulled a gun out of the hands of the nearest Purple Dragon, Waxer, whose face warred between different kinds of fear.

The four turtles tensed, waiting for the shot. But DragonFace pointed his gun not at them, but at his own gang.

"Shoot them or you'll be sorry!"

From the corner, a younger boy stepped forward. He didn't have any visible tattoos yet, and his hands were empty except of the keys to the van beside him.

"It really happened? And you guys...saved us?" he asked the turtles.

"Yep!" Mikey gave him a thumbs-up.

"No!" DragonFace bellowed.

And he fired at the kid.

There was a sudden glow of purple light.

A bullet slammed into the door of the van – yards off-target.

All eyes turned to Donatello who held Byakko in one hand while energy and wind danced around him.

Raph smirked. "See? We told ya."

"Listen to me." Leo raised his voice in his most commanding tones. "The Purple Dragons have already lost. You've got a better chance of becoming a city-league basketball team than taking over the streets again. And we're not going to give you another warning. Disband now and we'll leave you alone."

He managed to look around the room and pin almost every Purple Dragon with his burning gaze.

"But if you try us, we will take you down. And if you ever, _ever_ come after our friends again, we'll take you _apart_."

"And if Don can stop bullets without even breaking a sweat, what do you think the _rest_ of us will do?" Mikey asked with dangerous innocence.

"Remember, he's the nice one," Raph told them, smiling wickedly.

Don gave a rather dark smile himself. "Only relatively."

He lifted Byakko and pointed it at the roof. "Release the cleaving wind!"

The force of the blast tore the roof open as dawn's light streamed in on the ruin that was the remaining building. Within moments, sirens began to sound.

"Last chance." Leo looked not just at DragonFace, but at all of them. "Surrender and stop coming after us. Go straight. Leave our friends alone. Or we'll find you. And we won't give you another pass."

Donatello didn't need to be looking at Leo to feel his signal. Don swept Byakko downwards and scooped up the four turtles, lifting them from the space with ease. He carried them up and away in a dramatic exit – made somewhat less dramatic when he turned around and set them down again right outside so they could listen in.

"Okay. That was _freaky_. I ain't doin' this no more," came Johnny's voice.

"You gotta be kiddin' me!" Formerly Mohawk said. " _You're_ goin' straight?"

"I didn't say that. But I ain't gonna try and fight them freaks no more. It's suicide, man. And I like breathin'."

"You got a point."

"No!" DragonFace yelled. " _I'm_ in charge and _I_ say we're fighting them and taking those weapons for ourselves! Then we'll be unstoppable! We'll be on top of the city like we was before. Like we belong!"

"Uh, I'm thinkin' that ain't gonna be how it ends," Waxer said.

An argument broke out which quickly degenerated into a chaotic-sounding fight. The turtles scooted along the rooftop to keep an eye on the proceedings while remaining out of sight. It wasn't long before DragonFace was out cold on the ground with several of the others.

"So, we're good?" Johnny asked those who remained. "We split now and see how it goes?"

"And _nobody_ goes near that nutcase and his girl what are friends with the freaks ever again," Formerly Mohawk said.

There was a general shout of agreement.

"Then everybody split before the cops get here," Johnny told them. "If these guys are too stupid to wake up, they're on their own."

Above, the four brothers exchanged looks.

"Honor amongst thieves, huh?" Raph said, raising an eye-ridge.

"Yeah. _Not_." Mikey frowned. "Some friends they are, leaving the ones still knocked out to get caught."

"They weren't friends," Leo said. "Not really. Some of them probably didn't even want to be there in the first place."

"Well, now they get their chance," Don said. "They can leave the gang and figure out their own lives. Choose a new path."

"I hope they do," Raph said. He glanced at his brothers. "Everybody deserves at least a second chance to get things right."

Don smiled at him, understanding. He'd forgiven Raph, of course he had, as he'd forgiven them all, but it would take longer for Raph to forgive himself. And longer still, probably, for the sting of it to leave them entirely.

"Except me." Michelangelo, of course, broke up the moment. "I need, like, eight or nine chances. Or ten. Ten's a nice, round number."

Leo swatted at his head while chuckling. "I think you're going to need more than that."

"Fifteen?" Mikey asked, fighting not to giggle. "Two hundred and four?"

"It doesn't matter," Don told him.

Leo and Raph and Mikey all looked at him and Don put out a hand to them so they could all put their hands together in one knot, one binding grip that held them.

Like they held one another.

Don met their eyes.

"Because however many chances any of us need, we'll always give each other _at least one more_. That's what it's all about. That's what makes us different from the Purple Dragons."

" _And_ we're way better than them. In every way." Raph managed to keep his voice low while his eyes were alight.

"Then we better prove it and not get caught either," Leo said, tipping his head to where the police sirens were drawing near.

And he led his brothers – his brothers, finally together, finally whole again – back into the shadows that would lead them home.

-==OOO==-

To Don's surprise, he fell asleep right away upon returning to the lair, falling into his old bed still wearing his full gear, for five hours straight. When he woke, his internal clock completely confused – though he was far less exhausted – he stretched and every joint in his body popped. Loudly.

Don sighed and glared at his mattress. "Yup, that's definitely gotta go."

Then he grinned to himself.

Before he could do anything else, however, he heard a crash followed by two different voices apologizing a little too frantically.

Don climbed out of bed and stuck his head out the door in time to see Leo exiting his own room and heading down the stairs. Further along the second floor, he could still hear Raph snoring away.

_Note to self – better sound-proofing for the doors. Or at least Raph's._

And then realized that he was considering making the lair _quieter_ , and huffed a laugh to himself.

_I really must be feeling better._

He glanced down at the common area below.

_But it sounds like things will have to wait for a bit._

Don made his way towards the kitchen, where the commotion was focused. Leatherhead stood in the middle of the floor, dripping wet, and looking remarkably sheepish. Mortu was hovering in the air, mouth twisted in an expression Don knew meant the Utrom was only barely keeping from roaring with laughter. Zayton, wearing a pink, frilly apron – _Where did he even get that?_ – had a towel over one arm and had turned one hand into a spatula which dripped some kind of batter.

Leo was regarding them with his arms folded across his plastron, attempting to look stern.

Then Don realized that there was water _everywhere_ , and most of Zayton's batter was sloshed across the entire kitchen table.

"It was simply a miscalculation," Zayton said. "After all, Earth appliances are rather different from those on the Homeworld."

"And the water pressure was unexpected," Leatherhead added. "I had forgotten that Donatello built fail-safes in when the lair is locked down to prevent contamination."

Don had forgotten that himself, actually. He'd also built a release valve so that the pressure could be normalized before anybody turned on the sink, but he hadn't remembered to use it when they arrived yesterday.

_Note to self again – make the release of pressure automatic to when the lair comes out of lockdown. And vent it somewhere other than the kitchen sink._

Leo sighed. "It's fine. Just...clean it up, please."

Zayton drew back his head, affronted. "Obviously."

"What were you trying to do?" Don asked.

"We thought you might be hungry," Leatherhead said. "Your lair remains well-stocked, so we were attempting to prepare a meal for everyone."

Mortu shifted in the air, angling closer to Don. "Perhaps we should offer them some assistance."

Don nodded. "Sure. If we all work together, maybe we'll be less likely to destroy the kitchen within the first twenty-four hours of being back here."

"Nothing would have been destroyed!" Zayton replied, affronted. "Merely…"

"Rendered somewhat...moist," Leatherhead finished.

They laughed.

"Um."

Don turned to Leo, standing to one side a little awkwardly. He smiled and reached out, catching Leo's arm.

"Come on. You can help me keep them in line."

And Leo, who was the worst cook in the family, who wasn't allowed to touch anything that might catch fire or melt down, found himself nonetheless welcomed into the chaos of the unfamiliar – and not the kitchen itself.

As they worked, even if the banter was stilted sometimes, and if Leo was stuck chopping because he could do that much reliably, and if they didn't quite know how to move around him as part of their formerly four-person unit, Leo realized how glad he was to be there anyway. That Don might have two families, but that Leo, and maybe all of them, were being issued an invitation to join what had been built on the Homeworld in their absence. That the lines between Don's two families were blurring, and both sides were working to make them less divided.

And Don traded a look with Leatherhead behind Leo's back that made them both smile. Because as hard as Leatherhead and Mortu and Zayton were working to bring Leo in, Leo was trying just as hard to fit beside them.

By the time Raph and Mikey opted to be awake, and Splinter emerged from some time in the dojo, a big lunch was waiting for them.

"Wow." Raph blinked at the display of frozen and canned and preserved foods, mixed and combined and rendered skillfully into a small feast. "Nice way to wake up!"

"Totally!" Mikey cheered, dropping into his habitual seat and grabbing for a plate.

Splinter accepted the tea Zayton had made for him and settled in at the head of the table. "You have my thanks for your efforts, Professor."

"It was truly a team effort, Master Splinter. We could not have done it alone." He gestured to Leo.

"Better check it, Mike," Raph said, winking. "Leo cooked. It might be poison."

Leo rolled his eyes while Michelangelo feigned choking to death, dramatically falling out of his chair to crash on the floor.

Don and Leatherhead wandered over, each with a huge mug of coffee in their hands, Mortu beside them.

Leatherhead looked forlornly into his cup. "I cannot believe I'm saying this, but I actually think I have grown to prefer the Homeworld variety."

"Me, too." Don sighed. "I guess I'm going to have to experiment and see if I can come up with a way to make some kind of additive or something."

"Perhaps your palate will adjust with time," Mortu said.

"Maybe," Leatherhead said, but he sounded very doubtful.

Then he stopped, because Donatello had stopped.

"Something wrong?" Leatherhead asked.

Don swallowed and tried not to sound disappointed. "I forgot. The kitchen table only seats five."

Indeed, the small table was sized perfectly for four turtles and one rat Sensei, without enough room to include a very large crocodile and an Utrom.

The entire room froze.

Don made himself take a breath. "Right. Well, we can get out the bigger table – I built one and stuck it in storage just in case. Or…"

"Do not concern yourself," Leatherhead said, patting Don's shoulder. "I am content to stand."

"And I can eat on the counter," Mortu said. "Now that it's been cleaned again."

Don nodded, but he sat heavily at his place and didn't look up. Suddenly the food and the meal felt wrong and hollow again.

"My son?"

"I'm...I'm fine."

The gentle touch at his shoulder surprised him and he turned to Mortu.

"Donatello?"

Don nodded at the unvoiced question and then turned back to Splinter and his brothers. "It's...I just kinda realized that the lair...when I built it, I built it for _us_ , you know? There's only five bedrooms. There isn't even a bed big enough for Leatherhead here. And, I mean, I can fix that, but…"

"We could go back to sharing rooms," Leo suggested.

"As long as _you_ get Raph for a roommate!" Mikey yelled. "I am _never_ sleeping in the same room with him again! Or I'll never sleep again!"

"Says the guy who kicks the wall in his sleep and it sounds like a platoon of soldiers marching through!"

"Enough." Splinter cut them off firmly, but without anger. He fixed his eyes on Donatello. "We may need to make some adjustments, but I am fully confident that, with some effort, we will be able to accommodate everyone comfortably, my son."

"Actually." Zayton glanced at Mortu before he continued. "We have...been discussing that."

"We have a proposal for you, Donatello," Mortu said.

"Oh?"

"On the Homeworld, you share quarters with us," Leatherhead said. "And if I am not mistaken, Mortu will _eventually_ overcome his hesitation and take up a place in our home as well."

That made Don smirk. Mortu had kept his own apartment all this time, but he barely stayed there at all anymore, sometimes even overnight. However, he had resisted any offers to join their collective apartment in spite of how easy it would be to add another room for him in the high-ceilinged space. No explanation for his refusal had ever made sense, so eventually Don, Leatherhead, and Zayton had decided it was simply Mortu's own stubborn, almost petulant, somewhat juvenile pride getting in his way, and they thought it was hilarious.

"However," Mortu said, cutting off any speculation about that old debate, "we feel that, for now, that might be balanced by you remaining in this lair with your brothers and Master Splinter, and the three of us making a lair of our own nearby."

"We do not want you to feel that we are abandoning you, however," Zayton said quickly. "We only wish to give everyone the space that will serve in their best interests, my boy."

Don looked around at all the faces turned in his direction and flushed under the attention. But his answer was steady.

"I'm...I'm okay if you want your own space. I mean, I want to make sure you're safe, but...won't that take too long? We've got so much to do now that we're here. We can't really take time to build you a place like this."

"Not like this, no," Mortu said. "But we need only live somewhere temporarily until TCRI has been restored – then we can make quarters for ourselves there."

"Oh. Sure."

Raph looked between them and scowled. If there was one thing he really kind of hated about Don's relationship with these three, it was that they were all inclined to be _reasonable_ when it was time to be _unreasonable_. They talked things out a lot, and they could all be brainy together, but it seemed like they just didn't know when to call something out and beat it to death.

Thankfully, calling things out and beating on them was Raph's favorite pastime.

"Nah, that's just dumb," he said, folding his arms.

Everyone turned to look at him.

Raph shrugged. "If you're gonna live at TCRI anyway, then Don's right. There's no point wastin' time making another lair when you can crash here for a while. We just gotta move some stuff around. It ain't like we don't have the space."

Then he grinned at Don's wide-eyed surprise.

"Besides, me and Don built most of this the first time. We can put up a few more walls for ya."

And Don grinned at Raph, happy and grateful and so real and himself and familiar that Raph had to swallow a lump in his throat. How long had it been since he'd seen that honesty in his brother?

Yeah, they were all home, but there was a lot of healing yet to do. And Raph wasn't going to let it happen with the other people who made Don happy living halfway across the sewer.

"I agree," Splinter said. "I think we would all be better served to remain together, if we can solve the problem of ensuring privacy and comfort for everyone. But if we are all willing to sacrifice a little for one another, there is room for all in one home."

Leo and Mortu were eyeing one another, and Mikey was furrowing his forehead, considering.

But it was Leatherhead who nodded and let out a huff of air. "Thank you, my friends. For once again giving me a home. It would be my honor to share in yours."

"Hey, LH?" Mikey pushed up from the table. "Let's go dig out that bigger table. We're gonna need it anyway. Might as well start now!"

"That is an excellent suggestion," Zayton said. "I will assist you."

As they wandered off to one of the storage closets, Don looked around the table at Mortu and Leo and Raph and his Sensei.

"I…" He gulped. "Thank you."

"No problem, bro," Raph said.

Leo rose. He moved around the table to face Mortu, squaring his shoulders and looking the Utrom in the eye.

Then he bowed. "Please be welcome in our home, for as long as you like." He rose and smiled. "And anything you can do to help keep things in line, I'd appreciate it!"

These words were met with a resounding crash from the direction of the closet.

"Oh, dear!" The Professor's voice went high and nervous. "So sorry!"

"Sorry, Donnie!" Mikey yelled. "Oh, and sorry Leatherhead! That looked heavy!"

Mortu turned back to Leo. "I shall do my best, but I make no promises."

"Hey, it could be worse," Don said. When they both looked at him, he gave a cheeky smirk. "It could be the Guardian Corps!"

Another crash sounded.

"Yes," Splinter said, with feeling. "Even as it stands, that would certainly be worse."

-==OOO==-

In the end, it took only a little adjustment to fit Zayton, Leatherhead, and Mortu into the lair comfortably. Zayton claimed a corner of Don's lab for himself, needing no sleeping quarters, and also volunteered to take over most of the chores which could be done while others were in bed as he had back on the Homeworld for his roommates. Mortu left his robo-organic equipment in the lab as well, but opted to share Don's own room for sleeping, taking up little space as he did. And, after some negotiation, Leatherhead decided to make use of the largest of the storage closets near the dojo for his own room – he only needed a place large enough for a bed and quiet enough for him to relax, and a cleared-out closet the size of half a subway car would be both, if a bit plain. However, Mikey offered to decorate it for him, and Leatherhead was not entirely sure he'd talked the turtle out of it.

It was not the most elegant solution, but it would work in the short-term. And, as Don reminded himself, he could always expand the lair if he really wanted to someday.

But he did have a surprise for everyone nonetheless.

"I brought something for us from the Homeworld," he said, looking into the space that would become Leatherhead's room, now barren as stuff had been piled in the main room to be reallocated other places. "Last night I...well. I kinda forgot."

"It's okay, Donnie," Mikey said. "Even you're allowed to forget stuff. I mean, I do!"

Raph absently flicked Mikey's head.

Mortu was making an Utrom expression that was undeniably smug.

Leatherhead looked at him. "You know about this?"

"Of course I do."

Don grinned at him. Then he stepped into the closet and opened the door in his mind.

And a full bed identical to that which Leatherhead had back on the Homeworld popped into existence.

Leatherhead stared at it for a full moment of shock before he grabbed Don in a crushing hug. "I appreciate this more than I can say."

"I know," Don managed through his squeezed lungs. "Did you think I was going to want to go back to sleeping on a normal mattress either?"

When Leatherhead let Don go, the turtle turned to his brothers and father.

"I, uh, actually had Mortu buy beds for all of us. I can put them in your rooms whenever you want."

"Wait, is this like that bed that goes all warm and soft?" Mikey asked. "Like, _really_ soft?"

"Yep."

"Woohoo! You are the best brother _ever_! I want my bed _right now_!"

And so Don replaced every bed in the lair with the infinitely superior version he had grown to love on the Homeworld. Of course, now he had to find a way to store five boring Earth beds, assuming he kept them at all, and he was down the biggest closet in the lair, but neither of those things meant anything compared to the look on Splinter's face when the aged rat settled on his own bed for the first time.

Leo elbowed him. "Good going, bro."

"Didja bring anything else we should know about?" Raph asked.

Don shrugged. "Sometimes I think I brought the whole Homeworld with us."

But then he smiled. He pressed a hand to his chest, where his Astrocyte medallion still hung, and where an echo of the Song of the Heart could still be felt if he listened for it.

"And sometimes I think...well." He looked across at them, and at where Mikey was bouncing around Leatherhead and Mortu was idling in the air beside Zayton – and all of it felt _right_. "Sometimes I think it was always here with us, anyway."


	7. Hope

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so, we draw to the close of this series – at least for now. As stated, there's no telling if or when I'll decide to come back. But for now, I hope this end to the journey is everything you hoped it would be.
> 
> Thank you, all of you, for taking this time with me. Thank you for all of your kindness, your comments, your reviews. Thank you for your warm feelings and your laughter and your tears. Thank you for being together with me every step of the way.
> 
> Thank you for reading this story which brought me home.
> 
> I hope to see you around, either when I inevitably return to TMNT or in another fandom. Until next time, then, all my love and thanks to you all.
> 
> This is for every one of you.
> 
> Enjoy!

Raph wandered into the workshop more out of habit than anything else; he thought maybe now that things were getting better, he could look at his Shell Cycle without feeling sick to his stomach about the brother who built it. And with so much changing around him, some good work with gears and grease might be just what he needed to find his balance in this strange and somewhat unfamiliar world.

Apparently he wasn't the only one. "Yo, Donnie!"

Any other person would have been startled into banging their head on the upraised hood of the Battle Shell 2, or whatever Don had named it. But Donatello had years of Raph doing exactly that, wandering in quietly and then yelling, and that was before two years working in a lab in the middle of the Science Institute where it seemed like every single person on the Homeworld wanted to stop and visit him some days.

Don turned and grinned, clicking off the headlamp before he blinded Raph. "What's up?"

"You getting to work already?" Raph strode over. "Don't you ever just chill out?"

"Not really." Don gave a sheepish shrug. "And I'm not exactly working, either. But this engine sat idle for a long time, and I wanted to make sure it hasn't developed any leaks or lost pressure in the hoses before I tried starting it up."

"Yeah, we didn't really use anything in here when you were gone." And somehow Raph was able to say that while meeting Don's eyes and not choke on the words.

That it had happened at all still ached in his chest in a way he wouldn't admit to anyone on pain of death, but it wasn't an ache he couldn't get past anymore.

"I can tell." Don raised an eyebrow. "What about you? Bored already?"

Raph smirked. "Hardly. But Mikey's being a nuisance and I don't really feel like chasin' him all over the lair right now."

"Do I even want to know?"

"Put it this way, bro. I think Leatherhead's about two minutes away from sitting on him and then taking a long nap."

Don laughed. "I see your point. Well, if you want to help…" He held out a screwdriver in invitation.

Raph took it, and some of the tightness in his chest retreated. "Sounds good."

They worked for more than an hour, checking and testing each vehicle and Don's larger equipment that was stored in the garage area. Raph had not lost his touch for mechanics, and he found he had missed the grease under his nails and the feel of metal and chain in his hands. He had also missed listening to Don babble about all the ideas he had for upgrading their equipment. Just as he had reinvented everything after their trip to the future, two years on the Homeworld had given Don even more knowledge to bring to the armored van that was already tricked out beyond belief – and Raph wanted to hear about all of it.

After a while, Zayton poked his head in.

"Everything going all right in here?" he asked, looking around.

Don sat up from where he had been peering under a rebuilt Sewer Slider and smiled, absently accepting a rag from Raph to wipe off his hands. "Fine. How're things out there?"

"Oh, as expected, I suppose. Though your Master Splinter eventually tired of Michelangelo's antics and has him sparring in the dojo with Leonardo. From the sound of it, I do not believe Michelangelo is enjoying himself nearly as much."

Raph chuckled. "I bet not. Fearless hasn't gotten to kick somebody's shell in way too long."

Don snickered too.

"Well, if you're quite sure…"

Don shook his head fondly. Then he said something in a language Raph didn't know. The Fugitoid responded similarly before he waved and headed out.

Raph turned to Don. "What was that all about?"

Don's face went a little flushed. "Basically, to quit worrying about me. I knew he was checking up on me and I told him that I'm really fine and he should be helping Mortu."

"And what'd he say?"

"Um, that Mortu isn't his priority, but he wouldn't stay if I didn't want him to."

Raph considered his brother. "They really care about you, don't they?"

Don blinked at him. "Well, yeah."

"And they really are your family."

Now Don swallowed, a little uncomfortably. "You're my family, too, Raph."

"Yeah, I know that." Raph put a hand on Don's shoulder. "And if they'd done to you what we did, I dunno if I'd let any one of 'em within twenty feet of you for a year or two. So I get it. I'm glad, even."

"Why?"

"Because." Raph let his gaze roam over the room of tools and vehicles. "It means no matter what, they're gonna be watching your back, Donnie. And that's...I mean, I'm always gonna be there, too. But it's good to know it ain't just me keepin' an eye on you."

"Raph." And that sound in Don's voice made Raph turn, as much as he didn't really want to have anything like this conversation. But Don's smile was soft and his eyes were warm. "Even when I had the entire Secrete Obscura at my back, it wasn't the same. It could never be the same. Besides, Zayton's hilariously bad at fighting, Leatherhead doesn't have the training, and Mortu has other priorities."

"What're you saying?"

"I'm saying." Don's smile got softer. "That you better not think about giving up your self-appointed duty to watch my back in a fight any time soon, any more than I'm going to stop watching yours. They are my family, but we're a different kind of family. And I...I think I need both. I think maybe I always will."

Raph rubbed a fist absently against his beak, and then shoved at where he was still latched onto Don. "Good. 'Cause I ain't going anywhere."

Don nodded and turned back to the Sewer Sled, and Raph could have hugged him for knowing when these sorts of conversations needed to end before Raph lost what little control he had over his emotions.

So he knelt down to get back to work, and they both pretended Raph's eyes weren't wet.

But a few deep breaths later, Raph looked over with a dark smile.

"What do you mean the Professor's _hilarious_?"

And Don laughed and tossed a rag at Raph's head, and another piece of the world became solid under Raph's feet once more.

-==OOO==-

Zayton eased away from the door, shaking his head. Of course Donatello would tell Raphael all about his attempt at stunning members of the Enlightened Ones when they crashed the symposium.

Even though it was a little embarrassing.

"Was that truly necessary?"

Zayton spun to see Leatherhead and Mortu regarding him with matching expressions of amusement.

"Was what necessary?" Zayton asked.

"You cannot spy on him forever," Mortu said.

"He won't appreciate it," Leatherhead added, the rumble of laughter in his voice.

"I have no intention of spying on him _forever_ ," Zayton returned, folding his arms against his body and adopting a pose of indignance.

"Oh?" Mortu was looking entirely too smug.

"Merely until I am fully assured that Donatello's wellbeing will not be negatively impacted by either these surroundings or any other individuals."

"And exactly how long do you think it will be until you are so assured?" Leatherhead asked.

"I calculate...approximately five flows."

Mortu gave the Utrom equivalent of an eye-roll at Leatherhead. "You were correct. I apologize." To Zayton, he said, "I believed you would count the estimated time of your animosity in years or decades. Leatherhead was more generous."

"No." Leatherhead shook his head. "It was not generosity on my part, but experience."

He looked at the closed door to the workshop, where a low strain of rock music emerged, accompanied by the familiar banging of metal on metal.

"They are very young, all of them," Leatherhead said. "But above all, they are loyal. There are many wounds to be healed, and many pains and wrongs to repair, but I have no doubt that Donatello will be far better even than he ever was on the Homeworld when he is fully reunited with his first family."

"But what makes you so sure such reconciliation will happen quickly?" Mortu asked.

"Have you watched them together? It is not only his brothers and father that are working to correct what was done. Donatello himself strives for it with all his strength, even if he does so uneasily at times."

"More than that. Donatello is working to draw us in just as closely."

"Exactly." Leatherhead grinned. "And what can stand against that determination? The universe itself falters in the face of his will."

"Be that as it may," Zayton said, "until I am personally convinced, I shall continue to be watchful."

"Oh, very well." Mortu gave a very Earth-like sigh. "But if you get caught snooping, do not expect us to save you."

"I expect nothing of the kind." Zayton threw back his shoulders with pride.

Leatherhead looked to Mortu. "Would you like to make another wager? How long until he is found out by this family of ninja?"

But Mortu only grinned. "No, indeed! I should lose instantly!"

Zayton tipped his head. "Why?"

Mortu gestured upwards with a foreleg.

And Michelangelo dropped from the ceiling, smiling widely.

" _Soooo_." He drew the word out and leered at Zayton. "What's it worth to you for me not to tell Donnie on you?"

-==OOO==-

Only a lifetime of practice kept Raph from dropping the blow-torch at the sudden explosion of laughter from right outside the door.

"What the shell?"

Don lifted his welding goggles and shook his head. "Do you really _want_ to know?"

More laughter, followed by a cultured voice upraised in haughty annoyance filtered through the door, though the words were still indistinct.

But they could hear Mikey clearly.

" _Aw! Come on! Just one little comic book store won't cost that much!_ "

Raph turned back to Don. "No. Not a chance."

"Me neither." And Don cranked up the volume and went back to work.

-==OOO==-

At sunset, Splinter called his sons into the dojo and shut the door behind them. Even the comfort of an afternoon in the workshop, up to his elbows in parts and plans, couldn't banish Don's nervousness. He glanced over his shoulder just once, wishing Mortu and Leatherhead and Zayton had come with him for this. He knew what this was about, of course, and had been dreading it for a while. But as much as his two families were beginning to meld into one, this was something only those who were truly Clan could witness.

Splinter moved quietly, lighting the candles in the dojo and paying special attention to the altar for Hamato Yoshi that presided over the space. His sons settled properly in a row to wait.

It did not escape anyone's notice that Don edged to sit on the far end of the line in what, traditionally, would signify the least important position in the Clan – just as he had in Usagi's dimension so long ago.

"My sons."

Splinter faced them and knelt before them.

"There are matters which we have yet to discuss. Matters of honor. Matters of Clan."

Don bit back an instinctive objection and forced himself to hold still.

Splinter peered at him but did not address his son's obvious discomfort.

"For the time that we abided in the other dimension, we comported ourselves according to a strict code of honor and hierarchy not dissimilar from the same values and culture which are our own. In that world, Leonardo was recognized as chunin to this Clan and leader to you four in my absence."

Don didn't look at any of his brothers or his father.

"Events have changed each of us, my sons, and perhaps myself most of all."

For a moment, Splinter's legendary control gave way and his eyes shone with regret and guilt.

"In that world of ease and acceptance, familiar and restful, I was blinded to the truth. I was blinded to everything I have attempted to teach you about honor and Clan and the way of Bushido. Illness and injury carried some fault, but the weakness of spirit, the mind that broke, was my own."

Next to Donatello, Mikey fidgeted but stayed quiet.

"It was Master Yoshi who saved me, guiding me from my complacence with a warning that to surrender to such ease was to condemn our family to a fracture from which we would never recover. Master Yoshi entered my dreams and showed me the darkness that had fallen upon us."

Splinter turned to Donatello.

"But it fell upon you so much more than the rest of us. The pain you endured, the grief, these are wounds that time has healed and that you have forgiven. But that you suffered them at all is still a grievous blow struck by a Clan whose honor was forfeit."

Splinter bowed low.

"Donatello, though you have forgiven us, I still offer you the most sincere apology of my heart. And Leonardo, Michelangelo, Raphael – to you I also apologize for not preserving us all from such a fate until it was nearly too late."

"Master Splinter," Don began, but then he stopped, not sure what else to say.

"It was our fault, too," Raph said softly.

Splinter returned to his kneeling position and again regarded his sons.

"I see now that our Master Yoshi was with you all along, Donatello, that he guarded you and taught you in our absence, and for this I am profoundly grateful. You have told us of your encounter with him after the fall of the Architect, and of his own forgiveness of our errors."

Splinter's face twitched slightly, the mix of grief and wonder and loyalty and failure cracking his composure once more for just a moment.

"It is clear to me now that your mind fared better against the temptations of the other world not simply by accident, but because you, my son, possess a pure heart and soul, as well as a natural giftedness with spiritual powers. You alone mastered the use of a Fang of the Dragon without the help of the Ninja Tribunal or their amulets. You alone have learned to fold time and space to your will."

Don couldn't keep silent anymore.

"Yeah, but I learned all that from Master Yoshi, and you'll learn it, too!" He gulped. "I mean, I had a lot of time to figure this stuff out. You've only had access to Master Yoshi's memories for a few weeks."

Splinter smiled placidly at him.

"And though I have no doubt that, in time, we will achieve what you have mastered, there is no denying the skill which is, I believe, as inherent to you as your vast intelligence. I have known for many years, my son, that you are unique amongst your brothers in this way."

"You were the first to find your spiritual powers when we were training with the Tribunal," Leo said.

"And when we went all dragon-y the first time, you kinda led the way," Mikey put in.

"And you were the one who reached Sensei's mind when you were in the middle of bein' tortured by the Triceratons," Raph added.

"Sure, but I…"

Splinter held up a hand and Don fell silent.

"I am not saying you are _better_ than any of your brothers, Donatello. But you must accept that, just as you can do things with your mind unmatched by the rest of us, so too have you achieved great deeds with your spirit. And that only time will tell where your limits in these areas truly lie."

Don couldn't stand it. He pushed to his feet.

"I hear what you're saying and I really appreciate it, Master Splinter. I do. But I _don't_ want to be chunin!"

He turned and started for the door when he was stopped by a strong hand on his shoulder.

"Why not?"

The honest curiosity in Raph's voice forced him to look at his brother.

"Because...I don't want to lead. I don't...I can't…" Don took a breath and met Raph's eyes. "I can't do it the way Leo does."

"No." Leo rose to join them. "You would do it the way _you_ do, Donnie."

Don shook his head. "I'm not...I'm a scientist, not a general. I can come up with plans, sure, but…"

Mikey appeared on his other side. "Just say it, bro."

Raph and Leo both looked at him with identical expressions of confusion.

Mikey shrugged. "What? Isn't it obvious? Don can't be himself and lead us at the same time."

"How come?" Raph asked.

"'Cause leading isn't about honor, really, or even about fighting. It's about figuring out how to help each of us be the best version of ourselves. Right? And the best version of Don is the version where he gets to be all brainy and doesn't have to argue with me about training or keep you two from fighting all the time."

Leo quirked a smile. "Finally figured it out, huh?"

Mikey rolled his eyes. "Kinda couldn't help it. We've only lived with you our _whole lives_."

Don drew in a deep breath. "Thanks, Mikey." He looked up. "He's right. Leading _isn't_ just about making all the right decisions or getting us through a battle. It's...it's the person who will juggle training with not forgetting the grocery shopping. The person who will remember if I haven't slept in two days while I'm working on a project and will still stop Mikey from putting glue in the shower-head again."

"Dude. It wasn't glue. It was syrup."

"It was _gross_." Raph shuddered.

"But, Don, you've proven you can do that sort of thing, too," Leo said. "You've been teaching classes and balancing that with a TV show and therapy and studying with the Guardians. I know you're used to focusing on your own stuff when we're here, but you're just as capable as I am."

"I know. But...honestly?" Don met Leo's eyes. "I'd rather have you looking out for me."

"You had Mortu." Raph shook his head. "Shoulda realized. Mortu figured out the stuff for ya."

"And Leatherhead took care of me and Zayton challenged me and kept me busy." Don nodded. "It wasn't the same, but...even though we all depended on each other, and I was more used to fighting than LH or Zayton, I still wasn't in charge. I...I got to be myself and do my best work for them but I didn't have to lead them as a family. I didn't want to." He held Leo's gaze. "I still don't."

"So." Mikey bounced. "As long as Leo can get over his own guilt enough to lead us without thinking you'd be better at it, we're all set."

Don looked at Leo. "Is that what this is about?"

"Yes." Splinter had not moved and his voice reminded them that they were all showing rather a lot of rudeness to their Sensei. As one, the turtles broke apart, bowed, and returned to the mat – this time with Don firmly pushed between Leo and Raph.

But it was Leonardo that Splinter looked at now.

"My son. You are a gifted leader and a dedicated brother. You have suffered greatly in these last months, experienced the stain of defeat and dishonor in a way you have rarely known before. Donatello has found the truth for himself and knows where he belongs. You must find the same in yourself, or we can never be united."

Leo looked across at his brothers. "I...I know it wasn't _really_ my fault...but it was still my fault, too. If that makes sense."

"It doesn't," Raph told him with a smirk.

"Personally," Mikey said, "the whole solution's kinda obvious."

"Oh?" Splinter raised an eyebrow. "How so, Michelangelo?"

"Well, Leo's gotta lead 'cause he'll, like, _explode_ if he can't lecture somebody sometimes. And he's really good at it, crisis of confidence aside. But if he leads and just remembers to listen to Donnie more often, we'd be good, right? And Raph will keep on being Raph and I'll keep being the Battle Nexus Champion!"

"You just _had_ to work that in, didn't ya?" Raph glared at him.

Mikey shrugged. "It's been a while."

"He's right." Don put a hand on Leo's shoulder. "I don't want to lead. And you don't _really_ want anybody else to lead. No offense," he said over his shoulder to Raph.

Raph snorted. "None taken – ain't like I don't already know that."

Don turned back to Leo. "Kiryoku. Leo, it was always yours. The power of gravity named for the strength of will and perseverance. It holds us all in check. When I...well, when the Ancient One and I managed to call it out of the Dragon for you and bring it to this plane of existence, I asked him about it. And he told me that the elements, all of them – not just wind and lightning and thunder but also earth and fire and water and metal – they only work in the presence of gravity. They only work with a center to bind them. And _you_ are our center."

Leo swallowed. "But I let you down."

"You didn't." Don squeezed the shoulder he held. "Because you came back. You'll always come back. And next time, if there is a next time...well, now I know to grab you and drag you back."

"You better."

"I will." Don made the vow with his whole heart. Never again would he run from his family – from either of them. No matter what the universe brought, he would keep them at his side, as themselves, as they had all promised so long ago.

"And that is why you, Donatello, shall now be named Leonardo's own chunin," Splinter said. "You have a mental resilience unlike the rest of us; should our steps go awry again, I hereby bestow upon you the right and obligation to correct us by any means necessary. With you to stand guard over us, I believe we shall never be so lost again."

Don looked at his hands and found he wasn't so afraid of carrying this weight after all. "I...I did know something was wrong back in Usagi's dimension – almost from the beginning. Didn't I?"

"Yes, my son. You did. And it was a great error on all our parts that none of us heeded your warning. It is an error we shall never repeat."

Leo nodded. "I can't...I can't promise never to be wrong again, but I trust you, Donnie. And if I'm not listening to you next time, I'm counting on you to step in and do the right thing anyway. I...I want you as chunin. You're the only one I know for sure will bring us all home if I fail."

Don let out a breath, gulped, then looked at Raph.

Raph gave him a thumbs-up. "We're good, Don. Who wants to be _Leo's_ chunin anyway? I'd rather be straight-up chunin, so don't expect me to quit fightin' him for it." His expression went serious. "But he ain't wrong about you, either. If I beat him, then I want you for mine, too."

Half of Leo's face turned up in a smile. "Never gonna happen."

"We'll see about that."

"Ha!" Mikey pumped a fist in victory. "And now we're all good again!"

"Are we?" Leo looked searchingly at Don.

Don nodded. "Yeah. I think we are. I get to keep doing what I do, and you get to keep leading us, and Raph will keep being a pain in your shell and Mikey will...be Mikey, I guess."

Splinter smiled at his sons.

"And for as long as we hold to this, and to each other, the Hamato Clan will only grow stronger and will never fade away."

-==OOO==-

Two days later, half the inhabitants of the lair were engaged in a very loud discussion of financial decisions and ownership rights and patent processes, and the other half was avoiding the big common area of the lair like the plague.

Until, right in the middle of things, a light bloomed in the main room.

At the unexpected burst of otherworldly energy, Leo came running from the dojo, and Mikey abandoned his comic-reading in his room, yelling for Raph to come in from the garage. Mortu and Leatherhead braced themselves for a battle as Don's eyes widened, only to stand down when Splinter waved them off.

"It is an old friend, and one we are very much remiss in contacting."

Miyamoto Usagi emerged from the portal.

He bowed. "Greetings. And forgive me for intruding. I had hoped that there would be news of Donatello's return." His eyes fell upon the turtle in question. "My friend! It does my heart much good to see you here."

Don huffed and rubbed at his beak, embarrassed. "Hi Usagi. I, uh, kinda forgot that we should have let you know that they found me."

The ronin samurai immediately smiled forgivingly. "It is all right. I imagine it must have been a difficult ordeal to have distracted you all so severely. Though I must confess a curiosity as to what exactly has happened. You seem quite different from the last time we spoke, Donatello-san."

"Dude." Michelangelo leaped the railing from the second floor and sidled up to him. "There is _so much_ news."

It took more than an hour for everyone to tell him the story, and they took turns, though Mikey couldn't help but add his own flourishes particularly when Zayton was trying to be concise about things. Donatello, for his part, mostly listened and added only a few details from when he had been with the Architect. And though they kept some things private – the final intervention of Hamato Yoshi, the full extent of Donatello's emotional suffering, the Stem of the Homeworld – in the end, Usagi was another in that position of family if not Clan, and he, they all felt, deserved to know the truth.

As the story wound down and Zayton and Mortu finished explaining about the company and the future they were beginning to map out, Usagi looked around the circle with eyes filled with the weight of all that had transpired.

"I owe you all the greatest of apologies," he said at last. "If not for me, such suffering would not have been borne."

"On the other hand," Raph said, "if Donnie hadn't'a gone with the Utrom, maybe they wouldn't have come back with a cure."

"And we wouldn't be learning how to put stuff in a dimensional fold, which is, like, _really_ cool because chips don't go stale in there and I could store _all_ my comic books and – _hey_!" Leo reached over and bopped Mikey before he could go on.

"The truth is, Usagi-san," Splinter said, "that all is as it should be. The versions of ourselves who lost our way lived only in your own world, and now that we have learned the lessons of it, we will not falter. The life we lived there was pleasant enough, but it is here that we can be together."

"Here _and_ on the Homeworld," Leatherhead said.

"As long as we go together," Leo finished. "We can only really be ourselves if we're together, and that's a promise we're going to keep from now on. No matter what."

"Because it wasn't your world that almost destroyed us, really," Raph said. "It was bein' apart."

Usagi looked between them. "I can see that the end of this experience has brought with it much which is to the benefit of two different worlds. However…"

But Mortu held up a foreleg. "Forgive me for this impudence, but I believe what you must say should be done without quite so much of an audience. Perhaps you and Donatello should seek a quieter place to speak."

Leo got to his feet at once, flashing a grateful look at Mortu. "Come on. Let's go up to my room."

Usagi's good manners meant he only nodded and fell in behind Leo along with Don. Splinter pinned both his other sons with a look that kept them from saying anything until Leo's door shut above.

And then Leatherhead beat them to it, anyway.

"What was that all about?"

Mortu gave an Earth smile. "The world to which Usagi belongs is, except in matters of species, strikingly similar to the one in which my crew and I first landed on this planet. It's ways and customs are very familiar."

"So? And? Therefore?" Mikey asked.

"Quit it." Raph poked him.

"I believe that there is a rather significant discussion Usagi wishes have with Donatello regarding matters of reparation. This is...not always easy for any being with such honor. I thought he might prefer not to do it in front of so many friends, to say nothing of those of us who are strangers."

"I believe he will appreciate your insight," Splinter said. He turned to his two sons. "And you will not disturb them in any way. Understood?"

"Yes, Sensei," Raph and Mikey chorused.

But it didn't mean they weren't going to try to listen in, one way or another.

As long as they didn't get caught.

-==OOO==-

Upstairs, Leo lit a few candles, noticing how Usagi was visibly more at ease in the quiet room filled with paper screens than the computer-strewn lair downstairs. It wasn't much of a change – just enough for one who could read him as well as Leo could.

Don settled on one of the mats facing Usagi, but waited until Leo had finished and come to join them before he said, "So...was there something you needed to tell me, Usagi?"

"Rather that I must make a particular apology to you. For all that has transpired, I owe you a debt I may never be able to repay – though honor demands that I make every attempt to do so."

Usagi dropped into a low bow before Don could even respond.

"It was I who summoned your family to my world, Donatello-san. I who unknowingly set into motion the events which almost cost you your life several times over. I who am responsible for all the harm done to you and your family."

"Usagi, no!" Don pushed up out of his kneeling position and would have reached for Usagi, stopped only by Leo's hand on his shoulder. "None of it was your fault!"

"In your eyes? Perhaps not. But the fault is mine nonetheless, as is the blemish upon my honor."

Don drew in a breath, but Leo spoke first.

"Usagi...what would be the appropriate response were Don and I subject to the same codes of honor as yourself?"

Usagi looked up. His eyes were sharp, intent. "Unless your memory has deserted you, Leonardo-san, you know that answer as well as I. A samurai against whom I had committed such dishonor would challenge me to a duel, and the final blow would be fatal."

Don leaned back, aghast. "Not a chance!" He remembered his own duel with Honda Ryome, though the burn of shame had long since gone from it. "I'm not fighting you, Usagi," he said, more calmly.

"Don." Leo still held Don's shoulder, but his eyes were on Usagi. "As my chunin, can you give me permission to decide this matter?"

Don looked at his brother, and saw only certainty. Whatever Leo was thinking, he was confident.

And Don was reminded exactly why it was Leo who led, and he who was chunin. Because, whatever their own inner demons and doubts, Leo was the one who could push aside those things and see this moment clearly – and know what needed to be done.

It was a deep relief to pass the burden of it to him, and let himself only focus on being here and now, and on being Usagi's friend.

"Of course." Don settled back into his position.

Leo gave him a single nod without turning away from the ronin. "Miyamoto Usagi, your sins against my brother and my Clan are in my hands. Will you accept my right to reclaim our honor from you?"

Usagi closed his eyes, his solemn face betraying a trace of his own relief. "Yes, Leonardo-san."

"Donatello." Leo's voice rang with authority. "Bring me Kiryoku, Fang of the Dragon."

Don had no idea what Leo was doing, but he could feel the plea for trust under Leo's formal words. The echoes of two years prior, of Usagi's world, of his isolation and strangeness, they reverberated inside his chest, and yet...there was no pain.

Because Leo's eyes were warm and steady, and this time Don knew if Leo did manage to lose himself again, Don would be the one to bring him home.

With as much ceremony as he could manage – which wasn't much, but nobody was really looking at him anyway – Don stood, lifted Kiryoku from where Leo had mounted it over his bed, and brought it to his brother, holding it out like an offering.

Leo accepted it and wrapped both hands over the grip that was the same blue as his mask.

"This Fang was a gift to me from Donatello, whom you have harmed. It is fitting that a blade of his crafting shall be the one to deliver justice for your actions."

Usagi shut his eyes and lowered his head.

Don swallowed, nervous, but not afraid.

Because Leo was still Leo. The last two years were still long dead in the past.

(And, if it _really_ came down to it, well, he did have a backup plan. After all, the power of wind was still faster than the force of gravity. Faster still when he could draw it, and Byakko, from his pocket dimension quicker than thought.)

Leo rose to his feet and lifted Kiryoku, the blade almost luminous in the candlelight.

_No. It's actually glowing_. Don looked at Leo in surprise. _I knew he'd pick it up fast_.

The air trembled in the presence of pure power, the strength of Leo's spirit manifesting in his hands.

And Leo laid the flat of the blade upon Usagi's head, letting the light wash over him for a moment before it faded away.

"Your debt is repaid," Leo said, lifting Kiryoku and letting the power fade. "Your honor is your own once more."

Usagi opened his eyes and bowed. "I thank you, Leonardo-san." Then he rose and quirked a smile.

Don smiled, too. "I can't help but point out, though, that I didn't actually _make_ Kiryoku. I just...summoned it."

Usagi turned to him, and finally he met Don's eyes evenly, without even that last hitch of hesitation – and Don was glad that his friend had found some absolution of his own. "How it such a thing possible? A dragon does not give up its fangs so easily."

Don shrugged, scooting over to sit again while Leo put Kiryoku back on the wall.

"Same way I do everything else, I guess. Trial and error. And," he thought of the Ancient One, "teamwork."

Leo squeezed Don's shoulder and returned to kneeling beside him.

"Just chalk it up to another miracle Don pulled out of his shell." Leo's expression was placid, but Don could feel his amusement all the same.

"Out of a _Dragon_ , thank you very much," Don teased back.

Leo nudged him. "You _are_ going to have to tell us exactly how you did that someday, though."

"Maybe." Don winked. "Or maybe you'll just figure it out on your own."

"Oh, _I_ might. But Mikey and Raph won't."

Usagi's face went still, though his eyes danced with merriment to equal Leo's.

Don grinned. "That's not a very nice thing to say, Leo."

"No, but there may be truth in it. They are certainly unequal to the pair of you in certain respects," Usagi said, utterly cool and collected. "In decorum, for example."

There was a tiny sound.

" _Or_." Leo got to his feet and took two swift, silent steps. He swept the door open. "They could quit lurking like a bunch of ninja dropouts and actually come in."

Raph didn't fall flat on his face at Leo's feet only by virtue of the fact that he landed on top of Mikey on the way down.

"Shells for brains, all of you," he grumbled.

Usagi laughed. "So it seems, after so many adventures, very little has changed after all."

Don looked at his three brothers, two in a pile of arms and legs, Leo glaring at them, and shook his head.

"Oh, plenty has changed. Just for the better."

-==OOO==-

Two days later after Usagi's visit...

"Eureka!"

Four turtles, one rat, and one crocodile popped out of meditation at the strange, robotic cry that sounded clearly even in the dojo with the doors shut. Zayton and Mortu looked up from the corner of the common area they had commandeered for their project.

"What's that?" Raph asked.

Don was already standing up, a broad smile breaking across his face. "April's here!"

Mikey blinked. "I thought we were going over to see them later tonight?"

"I guess not! They must have decided to drive into the city on their own!"

A moment later, there was a buzzer that had the exact tone of the one at Madison Square Garden.

"Let me guess," Leo said, also rising. "Casey?"

"Yep!"

Splinter smiled at his sons and Leatherhead. "You should go and greet our guests properly."

Mikey and Raph got to their feet, the former with a whoop of joy, and both managed to beat the others out of the dojo and into the lair. Before the door slid open, Leo and Splinter had joined them, Don hanging back a little with Leatherhead.

April and Casey stepped into the lair looking rumpled, but elated.

"Guys!" April cried, her smile brilliant in her pale face. She darted forward to fling her arms around Michelangelo, who half-swept her off her feet as he spun her.

"I can't _believe_ how good it is to see you guys!" Casey boomed as he flung his arms around Raph in a bruising hug. Raph hugged him back just as hard, and harder when he realized that Casey had lost a lot of weight compared to the one he remembered.

There had been many phone calls in the last few days preparing for the pair to bring Casey's mom back to New York, and April and Casey had both been frank about how tired they were – to say nothing of Casey's mom's own exhaustion from the treatments – but it was something else to see it in their paleness, the loss of muscle after months of stress and enforced stillness, the circles and lines around their eyes. And the cross-Atlantic flight had not improved matters.

But their joy at the return of their mutant family was not dimmed at all.

Mikey finally set April down and she might have stumbled as her head kept spinning except that Splinter expertly caught her and gave her a reassuring hug while she reestablished her balance. Raph and Casey let go of one another only for Casey to fling an arm around Leo's neck to pull him close as well.

"It is _so_ good to see all of you," April said against Splinter's furry cheek.

"We missed you both as well," Splinter told her.

There was an awkward beat and then Raph punched Casey's shoulder. "Sorry for abandonin' ya, Case."

"Dude." Casey shook his head while smiling. "You've only said that a _gazillion_ times this week. It's cool, bro."

"Casey's right." April pulled back from Splinter and looked at him, then the other three. "We stopped being angry with you as soon as we understood the reason you left. Now we're just happy you're back."

Her eyes drifted past them to where Don stood, watching and smiling softly.

"Besides," April said, her voice getting thick with tears, "you brought Don home."

She stepped towards Donatello and Casey joined her. The three of them converged in a hug.

"You okay, bro?" Casey asked softly.

Donatello swallowed thickly as his eyes prickled with tears. "Yeah. Yeah, I am."

"So are we," April said, resting her temple on the crown of Don's head. "We're finally back where we belong. With our family. _All_ of them."

Leaving Donatello behind had gutted them both, a guilt that had hung over them since Thanksgiving. To see him here, looking healthier than he'd been when they left, with the rest of the family restored, it put right a wound that had pained them for so long.

Casey nudged Don without letting go. "But the offer still stands. If you want me to kick some shell for them leavin' ya, just say the word, Donnie."

Don huffed a laugh. "No, it's okay. I just want us all to be together again. No shell kicking necessary."

The three of them parted and April made her way to hug Raph and Leo while Casey scruffed Mikey's head and made a half-bow to Splinter before he was hugged by the rat himself. And Don found himself between Leatherhead and Mortu watching the rest of his family reconnect – and knew he meant what he'd said.

His first family had chosen him in the end. Had journeyed across space to find him and help him. Once they had been united again, Don had realized that there was no way they wouldn't win because they had defeated the worst enemy on the field – not the Architect, but themselves.

Then there was a second round of greetings between Leatherhead, Zayton, and Casey and April which was less emotional, but no less heartfelt. Mortu was obliged to introduce himself, for while he knew of the pair of humans who were surrogate family to the turtles, he had never actually encountered them in person before.

Of course, Casey couldn't possibly meet Mortu without making some kind of comment.

"Uh, no offense, but you look like you crawled out of the back of a really nasty butcher's shop. Like, one that cuts up squid. Or maybe those naked mole rat things."

Mortu quirked his brow in an Utrom expression that had Don and Leatherhead fighting not to laugh – the Utrom translation was something along the lines of 'your ignorance rates you among fungi too useless even to eat' – but only said, "It is a pleasure to meet you as well."

Raphael might not have had a translator in his head that could interpret such expressions, but he had a keen sense for annoyance and elbowed Casey. "Rude, bro."

Casey shrugged, not at all abashed. "What? He does!"

"Not a nice thing to say about the species responsible for _curing cancer_ ," April told him with a stern frown.

"Right. Sorry."

Mikey burst out laughing. "And here I was worried that being in Europe would make him all cultured! But nope! Same old goon as always!"

Casey leaned over and gave him a thorough noogie. "And don't you forget it!"

Mortu turned to April while half the room devolved into a spontaneous wrestling match. "My samples of the cure are ready and we have already earmarked a portion for your mother-in-law. However, we must ensure she is in good health before administering it – it is not as difficult a remedy as what she has endured, but it is still caustic upon a weakened system."

"I wouldn't worry too much about that," April said. "Casey's mom is _not_ what I'd call weak. A little frailer and bald, sure. But _not_ weak."

Mortu made an Earth smile. "Then I would be happy to visit with her at her earliest convenience. She cannot begin healing too quickly."

Casey tore out of a pile of limbs, leaving Raph to topple onto Leo and Mikey. "Can we go now?"

"Of course. I need only employ my disguise for walking in public."

As Mortu retreated to get the fleshy covering for his robo-organic suit, April looked to Don and Zayton.

"How soon can we start disseminating this cure out in the world? There are a lot of people who need it as fast as we can get it to them."

"It will not surprise you to know that building up a dormant corporation is not as easy as turning on a light, as you say," Zayton told her. "However, the TCRI company had always prepared for such an eventuality and the assets are relatively easy to retrieve. We are almost prepared to purchase a new headquarters – and with that done, we can begin mass production shortly thereafter."

"Where are you going to put the headquarters?" April asked.

Don smiled at her. "It's really more up to you than us. Where do _you_ want to start building up the roots of what will become O'Neil Tech?"

April blinked, then smiled. "Well, I seem to recall a certain laboratory that was shut down after an _accident_ that's still vacant."

Leo joined them. "Would this _happen_ to be a building where a certain scientist built an army of mousers?"

"That's the one!"

"Buildin' your empire on top of Stockman's." Raph shook his head. "That's _cold_. I like it."

"It's not cold," April told him, crossing her arms. "It's practical. Even deserted, that building still has a lot of good tech locked away, and ready access to the sewer, too. And it'll be relatively cheap to buy, not that it matters a whole lot, but why spend money if we don't have to?"

"Besides." Mikey bounced over. "It's karma, dude. Stockman is the whole reason we ever met April, but he also helped Shredder and Bishop become way scarier. Two wrongs, one right. We gotta balance the scale somehow!"

Everyone blinked at him.

Don poked Mikey's head. "Not quite ripe yet, though the point is taken."

"So you're agreed?" Zayton asked. "That is the location you would like to use?"

April nodded. "No better place to start a new beginning!"

Mortu returned to the group wearing the skin he had created to go out into the world as the face of TCRI, soon to be O'Neil Tech. He bore a certain resemblance to April's Uncle Augie, though not so unkempt and with a Japanese cast to his features.

"I am prepared." He lifted a briefcase. "Everything I require is here."

"Awesome! Let's do this, Mortu!" Casey cheered.

"He is only Mortu here," Leatherhead reminded him. "In public, for as long as he remains on Earth, you must use his alias."

"If I may ask," Splinter said, "what is your current alias, Mister Mortu? I do not believe I was told."

Mortu glanced at Donatello. His artificial face smiled, but it had nothing on the real happiness he felt as he answered.

"Fortuitously, one of my existing aliases on Earth was that of Doctor Saino Hoshi."

Don blushed while everyone else with a translator or the knowledge of Japanese smiled smugly.

"What's it mean?" Casey asked.

"It's basically Don," Mikey said. "Don's name means 'little one gifted by God.' Bonani told me that."

"Don's name on the Homeworld is properly Astrocyte Hamato Donatello, or simply Astrocyte Donatello," Zayton put in. "That is his title like 'doctor' would be here."

"And 'Saino Hoshi' roughly translates to 'gifted one of the stars." Leo grinned as Don blushed harder.

April grinned, too, and hugged Don again. "It really is you."

"I didn't even make the cure!" Don tried to protest. "I just had the idea to bring it back and…"

"And countless lives will be saved because of this knowledge and this alliance," Splinter finished.

"Starting with my mom! So let's go!" Casey yelled.

What could they do but laugh and agree?

-==OOO==-

As soon as TCRI was up and running, and Mortu in the guise of Doctor Saino Hoshi went public with the Utrom cure and finished a pile of peer reviews, the next three months flew by.

Mortu himself became so busy that Zayton was obliged to replicate the appearance and voice of Doctor Saino Hoshi just so that he could continue giving interviews and making personal appearances while Mortu helped April and Don run the suddenly-overwhelmed TCRI. The global need for the cure meant TCRI was understaffed by the thousands, and there was only so much the Utrom who had come from the Homeworld could do to assist. Anyone who wasn't directly involved in actually producing the cure quickly set to constructing the equipment necessary for automating the process, as well as getting it FDA-approved, patented, and accepted by insurance companies and hospitals worldwide for a rapid global distribution.

The Secrete Obscura agents who had accompanied the Utrom scientists to Earth were split thin between guarding the installation in the Catskills, protecting the Utrom at TCRI, and serving as bodyguards whenever Zayton or Mortu or any of the others went out in public. Now more than ever, it was critical that not so much as a whisper of their alien origins was attached to the cure for fear it would be rejected or targeted for attack. The people of Earth knew aliens as invading, dangerous, savage creatures – the Utrom were charged with ensuring that no one ever knew that the path towards a cancer-free planet had been laid by alien forelegs.

But protecting the scientists did not mean the Secrete were sitting idle except when fending off threats. Even the non-scientifically-minded members of the group were pressed into service. Besides fielding media calls, establishing the headquarters, and developing a logistical system to acquire the supplies needed to produce huge quantities of the cure, there were other tasks that needed doing – including building and testing its security system which had to be updated as quickly as Don and Zayton and Mortu could design it between other duties given the sheer amount of action it saw.

Mortu remained the ranking leader of the Secrete Obscura, and Donatello, to utterly no one's surprise, was named his second-in-command over the Utrom agents. But they were both so busy so often, the day-to-day leadership of the Secrete fell to one of Mortu's former crew, an Utrom who had been stranded on Earth and volunteered to return as part of the protective detail. And what Sh'rell lacked in direct authority, he made up in elegant problem-solving.

For example, the Secrete simply couldn't be everywhere at once. But they trusted the turtles and their human friends to guard the outer perimeter of the headquarters while they protected the inner sanctum inhabited by the Utrom. However, April was too busy helping with the production of the cure and the development of the lab to do much protecting, and the turtles had to work in secret as they always had.

Which was how Casey Jones got roped into serving as the official TCRI receptionist in the main lobby.

"I know it wouldn't be your first choice," Sh'rell said, practicing his Earth smile again. "But I am asking you to do this. Frankly, you are the only one we can spare."

Casey had sighed deeply. "Sure makes a guy feel wanted. Yeah, okay. Whatever."

Casey turned out to be _absolutely terrible_ at answering the phones and he didn't even try to handle the media frenzy – and he put a fist through more than one too-pushy reporter's cameras – but he did manage the front entrance and ensured that only those who knew about the Utrom and the turtles ever got past him.

To make Casey feel better, the next afternoon Raph got Zayton to help him made a placard for the front desk:

_Casey Jones  
Public Coordination Specialist_

"Hey," Raph said, grinning as he dropped it off. "Trust me, if anybody's _coordinating_ the public, and if they need _special_ skills to get them to go away, it's definitely you."

Casey made Raph buy him a week's worth of pizza before he accepted the title. But he did like it better than being called 'receptionist.'

By the end of the third month, Don and Zayton set up a local transmat network which allowed them to securely digitize and teleport individuals and supplies between three set locations – the turtles' lair, the Utrom base in the Catskills, and the new TCRI headquarters. It saved on travel time for both people and doses of cure, and it also provided a backup escape should anyone need it.

"Then couldn't we just lock the doors all the time? Why I gotta sit there all day like a veal in a booth?" Casey asked that night over dinner. Once a week, Michelangelo cooked up a storm in the lair for everyone who had the time to attend, and today was spaghetti night.

"Matches your brains," his mom said mostly to herself, but Raph caught it and snorted into his garlic bread.

Still recovering and in need of the regular dose of the cure herself, Casey's mom had nonetheless resolved to do what she could to help her son's amazing friends who had done so much on her behalf. For the moment, that was mostly concerned with apartment-hunting for Casey and April as well as keeping house in the lair for the turtles, Splinter, Leatherhead, Zayton, and Mortu who were so frazzled with everything else they forgot about things like laundry and dusting.

"We still have to make it look like normal human beings are coming into work every day," April told him all too sweetly. "And until we get more of a human workforce in place, we still don't want any strangers getting too close to our operations. Screening people takes time. If we just opened the doors now, we'd have a flood on our hands. We need _somebody_ to play goalie for us."

"I _ain't_ a goalie!" Casey objected.

"You do wear the mask most commonly associated with hockey goalies," Leatherhead pointed out.

"Yeah, but goalies don't fight!"

"Two words for you," his mom said. "Ron Hextall."

Casey almost threw his entire plate of food at her. "But he's a friggin' _Flyer_!"

"Then you must simply redeem the office," Splinter said, serene and granite-firm.

So Casey gave up, though he didn't get any more cheerful about his business-hours occupation.

-==OOO==-

A week later, a familiar face walked into the lobby. A face which had only just avoided getting a Purple Dragon tattoo permanently added to it.

A nervous young man looked up at where Casey sat. Or perched. He looked more like a bear ready to attack than a welcoming presence in the lobby, and that, he maintained, was the entire point of his presence.

"Can I help you." It was not phrased as a question. The unspoken 'Purple Dragon scum' at the end of it did not go unnoticed, either.

"Uh, yeah." The kid fidgeted. "Look. Uh, April O'Neil works here, too, right?"

"What's it to ya?"

"I, uh. I owe her one. And I owe you one. Okay?"

"Oh really?"

The kid was sweating now and tried to answer in one shaky breath. "And...if you both still worked in that crummy antiques shop I'd go work there to make it up to you but you don't and I still wanna make it up to you but I can't find an address so I thought I'd ask at this joint since her name is on the deed for the building and now I walked in and you're right here so..."

He was saved by the appearance of April herself.

"Do I know you?" she asked.

The kid shook his head. "No. But, uh. I know your. Uh. Friends. They kinda...they saved me. Woulda caught a bullet. But I...didn't."

April smiled. "I see. And you think you owe us?"

"Well...I was there when we burned down your place."

Her eyebrows rose. "You're a little young to be a Dragon."

"They were desperate. So was I." He shrugged. "But I ain't one now. 'Cause of _them_."

April gave Casey a nod. "I think we can figure something out. Come on back. What's your name?"

"They were calling me C-Dog, but…" And his words were cut off as they crossed out of the lobby into the secured corridor where Don hadn't turned on the sound.

From the security room, Leo looked to where Don was smiling at the monitor. "What was that all about? Why'd you send April down to talk to that kid?" Then, "He does look familiar, though."

"He should. He's the one DragonFace almost shot when we broke up the gang." Don's smile went wide. "I was wondering about that."

"About what?" Raph asked.

"Guys." Don waved a hand to the monitors. "Meet Cody. The first Cody. Our Cody from the future will be named after him."

Mikey blinked. "Seriously?"

"Yep. I mean, probably. Cool, huh?"

Raph reached over and scruffed Don's head hard. "You knew all along, didn't ya?"

"Hey! Get off! No!" Don tried to duck but he couldn't get out of his chair and he couldn't roll without crashing into one of his brothers. "I figured Cody's name worked its way into the family somewhere but I wasn't sure about it until now. But what better way than for someone who knows about us and wants to turn around to show up and get involved? Raph, stop it!"

"Knock it off," Leo said mildly, and Raph finally relented. "So...you think the future Cody is still going to exist someday? Even after everything that's happened."

Don shook his head. "I think the future Cody's going to exist someday _because_ of everything that's happened."

"I got a question about that," Mikey spoke up. "I mean, you said we're gonna live, like, a long time. Right?"

"Yes."

"Then how come Cody didn't know us? How come we were ancient history in the future?"

Don looked at Leo and Leo nodded. He'd figured it out for himself.

"Because," Leo said, "sometime between now and then, we'll go back to the Homeworld and stay for a while. Maybe because of something that happens on Earth. Maybe because...we need to get away."

"Sensei ain't gonna live that long," Raph put in quietly. "Neither will Casey or April."

"For whatever reason," Leo continued, "we leave the Earth for a while."

"And." Don looked at his brothers and forced himself to think about the cheerful things the future held, not the sorrowful ones. "As soon as we know we've already come and gone from Cody in the future, we can go be with him again. We don't want to change our own past, but there's no reason the Cody in the future should have to be alone when we could still be there for him."

There was a long, quiet moment, a somber weight of the future's inevitability that hung on them. The distant, seemingly-endless future that was unfolding in front of them with the speed of a bullet train.

And then Mikey reached out and got one arm around Raph and one around Don.

"Cool. 'Cause I _so_ miss those neat toys of his! And I bet Leatherhead would rock at those 3D games!"

And they knew that whatever did happen, whatever the future brought or whatever it took, they would still face it together.

And they would not face it as four alone.

-==OOO==-

Almost another two months after going public with the cure and beginning its distribution, Mortu began the process of having the shell corporation of O'Neil Tech take a greater stake in TCRI.

"It will be some years before we can transfer everything," he told them, "but within a decade, it will be your company entirely."

April shook her head. "I hope it's a long decade, then. I know a lot more about programming the automated production line than I do running a global corporation."

"I have some experience with it," Mortu told her with an Earth smile. "I will guide you for as long as you wish."

"But it's all gonna be April's someday, right?" Mikey bounced.

"And Casey's," Raph put in.

"Yeah, but mostly April's."

"Probably."

"Then I think!" Mikey struck a dramatic pose. "That we should have a party this Friday to celebrate!"

Raph frowned at him. "Celebrate what?"

"We'll call it a 'Yay It's Gonna Be April's Company Party' of course!"

Don looked at the calendar and hitched a breath. It was already into October.

Friday would be a year to the day since his family had decided to live in Usagi's dimension without him.

And Mikey, spotting that moment of sorrow, doubled down – and climbed up on the table.

"I, Michelangelo T Hamato, hereby declare Friday a day of joy and festivity and food, to celebrate, uh…curing cancer and also April and her company that doesn't exist yet but will!"

"You don't _have_ a middle name, you doofus!" Raph yelled.

Leo swept at Mikey's feet, launching Michelangelo into a forward flip. "Get off the table!"

Mikey landed on the floor and promptly spun on his shell in his favorite dance move. " _Party time_!"

And nobody could talk him out of it, or really wanted to, anyway, which was how that Friday night the TCRI building closed early and everyone but the members of the Secrete Obscura on guard duty gathered in the turtles' lair for a freewheeling bash complete with food, streamers, and loud music.

Splinter did make the party conditional upon no food fights, however. Don pointed out that that was really more a Guardians thing than the Secrete – and the members of the Secrete, as well as the Utrom scientists, pretended not to be too disappointed.

Even with that limitation, however, it was still a proper party with food and balloons and streamers – because what else was Mikey going to do with his time, apparently – and the air was filled with laughter and light and happiness.

As the evening really got going, Donatello found himself drawing away, leaning to one side and watching everyone. Watching his brothers and father mingle with his Utrom friends and colleagues. Watching his human family mingle with his Utrom family and friends in the Secrete. There was a deep peace there on the edge of so much celebration and goodwill and enjoyment, a rightness to have the lair so full of life.

A year ago it had been silent. It had been a prison. It had almost killed him.

So much had changed, indeed.

Donatello had changed, and so had his brothers. Even Master Splinter.

Division and silence had almost destroyed them, but trust and brotherhood had banished that silence, maybe forever.

And everything that mattered was stronger than ever. Everything that mattered had grown and given birth to new family, new laughter, new trust. A new home. And now that new home and family were growing roots into Don's first home, his first family. The lines were blurring and the ties were strengthening every second of every day now.

Don's heart swelled in his chest and he was absolutely certain even the Heart itself couldn't feel any more love than he did right in that moment, love for everyone who claimed him and whom he claimed in return, love for the two planets that would be his home for as long as he lived.

Eyes filling as his soul was filled, Don retreated quietly into his lab.

But he did not do so without being noticed.

And while April and Casey skillfully entertained the party guests, two families now growing into one quietly converged.

They exchanged no words. There was no need.

Three turtles, one rat, one crocodile, one Utrom, and one Fugitoid quietly moved as a single unit through the slightly-open door. But they stopped upon the threshold of Don's lab in surprise.

Donatello was recording something for the Science Institute's broadcasts as he had done every few days no matter how busy things had become in the lair or at TCRI. They knew he had done the bulk of his recording before the party, but he often left his last 'scene' or send-off to be done later, when he had reflected on how he wanted to wrap up his lesson for the day.

Apparently, he had been inspired to end today's program a little differently than usual.

"So, that's what I wanted to show you for today. I hope it was interesting, and I'm sorry about the, uh, malfunction. And that's why you always perform your tests in a safe environment!

"In the meantime, I've just gotten a new release of papers and journals from the Institute, and when I can steal a few hours somewhere, I'm going to read every one of them – I hear a few of you are even credited with some new discoveries! Congratulations! I can't wait to find out what you've been doing since I last saw you, and how much more that means we all have to learn about together!

"...That word…'together.' That's a really important word. Because no matter how smart you are, or how strong, or how kind, you'll always do your best when you're working with someone else. You'll probably be able to find your way on your own, but the way you find with someone else is always a better way, a smarter way, a stronger way, a kinder way. We can't be our best selves in a vacuum. We can't find our best voice in the silence.

"So...I know I usually tell you to always believe, always try, and you will find a way. And you will. I know you will. But today...I'd like to tell you something else.

"Find the people who believe in you. The people who trust you and who you can trust. The people you love who love you right back. Find them and don't ever let them go. Protect them and let them protect you.

"And don't be afraid of the bad things that happen sometimes. Because it's the darkness that makes the light shine brightest. It's the struggles that make us stronger.

"It's the bad things that show us where we truly belong. That bring us home.

"So...find the people who _are_ your home. I know they're out there for you. And how do I know that? How can I be so sure? Because mine came for me, no matter what. Because they are a part of me and I'm a part of them, forever and ever."

And those who were gathered at the door – and closest to Donatello's heart – could feel his eyes upon them.

"Good luck out there. We'll see you soon. All of us. Together."

And so it was.

-==OOO==-

End of Act 8

-==OOO==-


End file.
